


Star-Crossed

by Etched_in_Fire



Series: Star Fox: Fate's Decree [14]
Category: Star Fox Series
Genre: Adventure, Enemies to Very Reluctant Sort-of Friends, Gen, Handcuffed Together, Mild Language, PLENTY OF BANTER TO GO AROUND, Revenge, Sci-Fi, Space Pirates, Temporary Amnesia, in which Star Fox and Star Wolf have to work together, jail break
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:54:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24394594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etched_in_Fire/pseuds/Etched_in_Fire
Summary: Fox awakens in a dark room with no memory as to how he got there.  Chained to his longtime rival Wolf O’Donnell, the two must piece together the past few hours and escape from an unknown threat.
Series: Star Fox: Fate's Decree [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/51568
Comments: 19
Kudos: 43





	1. Death's Door

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place almost 2 years after the events of the Lylat Wars and will be referencing both Star Fox 64 and Star Fox Zero.
> 
> Hey all, long time no see. This is my newest bigger fic project. I say "bigger fic" because it's going to be multi-chapter, though jury's out as to how long it will be as of right now. I have been planning this one for awhile but it's not the one I originally intended to do after wrapping up my last multi-chapter fic, Burning Stars. This one, I feel, is better off written fresh off of Burning Star's heels because there will be references from that story in this story. However, as with all of my stories, I do try to write them in a way that you don't have to read anything else of my work if you don't want to-- you can just dive right in at any point. People who have read Burning Stars and the midquel, Burning Stars: The Assassin and the Traitor, may get a little more out of the story in some ways, but it's absolutely not necessary to read those in order to enjoy this story.
> 
> tl;dr
> 
> Recommended reading: Burning Stars and Burning Stars: The Assassin and the Traitor  
> Not required, just if you want in on extra lore tidbits.
> 
> Anyways, please enjoy.

**2 years earlier; the Remnants of Birnam Wood, Macbeth --**

There was nothing quite like the sound of an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object. Before the impact, the way the metal screamed in his ears was a beautiful, _terrible_ death cry. It pierced through his eardrums, biting down into his bones. It was a horrible feeling. He could only pray it would all be over soon. They had been hurtling at an impossible speed for too long. There was no way to escape this. He closed his eyes and waited for the end.

But the end never came. Not even after the crash. Not even after the jarring feeling of being tossed like a ragdoll out of the window, slamming into the ground, and fiery heat rolling over his metal-incased body. When the bleary tears rolled away from his eyes and he realized he wasn’t quite dead _yet_ , he realized that everything around him felt like the inside of an oven ready to bake through raw, meaty flesh.

It was enough to send his pained body jolting upright in horror. When he looked around jerkily, he realized that the base around him was being devoured by flames. There were sirens going off, red lights flashing in the distance. But they were all drowned out by the roar of metal walls around him bending… breaking… on the verge of collapsing.

His left arm wouldn’t move but he didn’t particularly care about that right now. It was his legs that were the problem. As much as he tried to move them, he couldn’t. He fell face-first into the ruined cement ground, pulling himself along with his only working limb. The wreckage creaked. He pulled himself as fast as he could, the popping of tinier explosions all around him. It sounded like rapid gunfire, filling his ears, blinding his peripherals. He focused on the sight ahead of him. Through the rubble, there was a shred of light. Sunlight. Freedom.

He crawled towards it in desperation. His energy was spent but somehow, his body kept moving. He wasn’t sure how it was possible. There were others… others less fortunate. He could hear their screaming as they burned in the inferno picking up behind him. There was nothing he could do for them now. So he just crawled on and he prayed. He prayed for the screaming to stop. Openly flowing tears coursed down either sides of his face. This was Hell and he knew he had no place here. 

As if on cue, the ceiling shuddered and collapsed, snuffing out light and hope both. He wailed under the pressure of the rubble atop his back, crushing his spine. Dust clotted his lungs and he coughed and sobbed and cried out. His bloodied fingers reached ahead of him, grabbing the sharp edges of debris. He tried to push it but it was like trying to lift a mountain. Feeling the last reserves of adrenaline die out in his body, he rested his face into the blood pooling around his body, shivering and closing his eyes.

When the light fell back onto his face, it was so bright that a slobbery gasp tore from his mouth. He opened his eyes again, staring up at the figure digging fervently for him. Through the haze, dust, and tears, the battered survivor could barely make out any details about his would-be rescuer. Not until his body had been freed of the rubble and the figure had carried him away from the burning base.

Dazed, the survivor stared up at his savior, blurry vision making doubles of everything he was seeing. Eventually, his gaze steadied and he realized who he was looking up at. Not that he could tell much about his rescuer’s face. It was covered by a hood, the shadows obscuring his features. It was the hands that the survivor recognized first—equipped with thin, boney fingers covered in brown hair and pink skin. Each was tipped with a scimitar-like ebony claw.

“The c-cargo…” he realized with a cough. “You were… you were the cargo…”

The figure did not reply. It just looked down at him for a brief moment and then continued on walking until they were a safe distance from the wreckage. He lowered the bloodied survivor to the ground for a moment and turned to look at the fiery grave pensively.

The survivor’s pale eyes, shrouded in soot and tears both, upon the horrible sight of the building burning down. Watching bits of metal pop out and plumes of flame eat through the walls was surreal. He knew those halls. He had walked those halls. He had worked in those halls. How many corpses would there be? How many charred, unrecognizable bodies would he have to come try to identify? 

And why them? Why not him? Why had he been given a chance to crawl away when the others hadn’t? It didn’t make any sense. It didn’t seem right.

Until it suddenly _did_ seem right. He looked down at his cut, bloodied, and bruised palm. He curled his fingers, watching each joint bend to his will. Through the agony, there was… something there. A surreal peace. A peace that evolved into relief. A relief that became joy. A joy… that became glee.

In the face of that lethal inferno, he laughed. He laughed until the tears fell on either sides of his face. He laughed until his stomach ached and his broken ribs screamed at him to stop. His shaky breath carried out into the air between gasps. He cradled his stomach with a hand. He let his mirthful and mournful tears splash onto the gray Macbethian ground. They did little to soothe the parched earth.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” breathlessly spoke the shrouded, unknown figure as he looked out at the bonfire.

“Heh… beautiful… _terrible_ … but that’s war…” the lone survivor said in a hoarse voice. “How’d you… How’d you move that… rubble?”

Wordlessly, the figure looked down at his own hands, bloodied by the survivor’s gaping wounds. He wiggled his fingers slightly then looked back at the survivor on the ground. If the bloodied man didn’t know any better, he could have _sworn_ he had seen lights dancing around the figure’s fingertips.

“I just did.”

The survivor laughed, painfully, wincing all the while. “Say… _cargo_ … who… who even _are_ you?”

As the shrouded figure looked down at the bloody mess of a man in front of him, the firelight’s reach flashed across his irises, illuminating them like lightning. There was… something familiar about those eyes… Something that the survivor couldn’t place.

“A disciple of destiny, perhaps,” the hooded figure whispered, reaching out with his hand to the injured man.

“What does that...” the survivor coughed, blood splattering into his palm. The way his vision wavered made him wonder how much longer he had without medical support… and if there was even a way to get a medic out here.

“Come with me,” the hooded one said calmly, reaching his hand out further. “And you will live. Fate has decreed your life not end here. All you must do is heed its call.”

In the face of death, what else is one to do but accept the hand of life when it reaches out? And so the survivor did it without thinking twice. Without regrets. Because this was what fate had decreed. He took the hand and he never looked back.


	2. Shackled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fox wakes up with a headache and a list full of problems.

**An Unknown Place, The Lylat System? --**

His head hurt. That was the first thing Fox noticed when he began to slip back into reality. He felt the uncomfortable floor below his back, the ache in his shoulders from the way he had been sleeping, and a small groan drifted from his muzzle involuntarily. He shifted, rolling from his side and onto his back-- the ground felt much colder here, not warmed by his body heat. Coupled with the frosty air, his new resting place felt even more unpleasant. Unpleasant enough for him to decide to abandon sleep.

His eyes opened gradually but the world was still a wavering mess—as bad as that colorful trip they had taken in Meteo during the Lylat Wars. If he had not known any better, he had gotten muzzle-deep into some Papetoonian liquor… but no, this was different than a hangover. His stomach felt fine. It was everything else that hurt. His temple. His jaw. His shoulders. His ego.

Pipes ran all over his vision, twisting and intertwining in a nonsensical maze. They made up the bulk of the ceiling, their dull gray tone fringed with rainbow hues and dazzled in blinding, dancing sparkles of light. He thought it was odd until he realized the pipes weren’t rainbow—his vision was still feeling the effects of stars-knew-what and his head throbbed to reinforce the realization. Fox closed his eyes again, steadying his haggard, strained breath. Why everything hurt, he could not remember, but one thing was for certain…

He was not on the Great Fox.

Fox opened his eyes again with more purpose this time. The pipes had gathered together from their spread array, his vision coming back fully into focus. No more lights, no more pretty colors. Just the dark ceiling above and his pained self below. He exhaled out a dreary sigh, sitting upright. Immediately one of his hands went to the back of his head, feeling a knot that had formed. He had hit something. Or something had hit him. The details were lost in a fog. 

He looked to his left, towards a door that was dimly outlined by light from the next room. A slit around eye level let in a trail of yellow light, its beam pooling around the center of the pitch-black room. Despite the pain in his head, he managed to rise from a sitting position to a standing. Fighting exhaustion, pain, and a shaky sense of balance, the vulpine made his way towards the slit in the door. His legs stumbled awkwardly and just a few feet before the door came into his reach, his right shoulder slammed into the metallic wall. Its cold bite stung dully but he gritted his teeth through it. 

Fox forced himself to take a few more steps, reaching out towards the door and feeling his left wrist suddenly stop chest-level. A few inches short… Fox tugged the arm forward a few times before he realized there was something horribly _wrong_. Weight. There was weight holding it back. A force. Something unseen in the darkness. With a gasp, the vulpine whipped around, emerald eyes glaring into the pitch black as they tried desperately to adjust. The toe of a boot was visible on the other side of the light in the middle of the room. Through the light in the middle, Fox saw a chain trail from himself towards the stranger in the darkness. His other hand went to his left wrist, feeling the shackle binding him.

“Who’s there?” Fox asked, tipped ears pinned back.

He heard a frustrated sigh.

“Hey!” Fox snapped. “Who are you!? And what… what’s this?” He pointed at the shackle. Each one of his words buzzed in the back of his mind, aggravating his own headache.

“Sit down,” a deep voice snapped back. “Door’s locked anyways. Don’t think I didn’t try it.”

_I’ve heard that voice somewhere before._

“Who’re—”

“Sit,” the voice repeated. “You’re a damn wreck on your feet.”

Fox took a step forward, feeling how unsteady his legs still were. His left hand braced himself against the cold of the metal wall. Eyes narrowed, the vulpine approached cautiously, the fur of his tail fluffed out with swelling nerves. Light fell over his features, the chain between himself and the stranger loosening. Soon enough, he towered over the hunched over figure, peering at him through the shadows.

When he realized who it was, he felt his heart drop from his chest to the very soles of his feet.

“ _Wolf?_ ”

The space pirate sat in the corner of the room, a shackle about his right wrist. Knees tucked up near his chest, he glared at the vulpine with a single violet eye and a sour expression. Fox’s natural instinct was to lunge at the criminal-- Wolf had, after all, led him on a multi-galaxy chase in the wake of the Lylat Wars and that was just the tip of the iceberg to their relationship. He contemplated how great it would feel to strangle Wolf O’Donnell on the spot but Fox’s head throbbed and his knees quaked. The vulpine knew he was in no condition to attack-- and judging by Wolf’s current situation, he did not seem very capable of retaliating. Fox could see a shackle around his rival’s right wrist, connecting to Fox’s cuff with a large chain.

_We’re chained to each other. We’re… we’re both prisoners?_ Fox’s eyes swept towards the door pensively. 

“What do you want, pup?” 

Fox took a step back, glancing towards Wolf.

“I… I guess I have a lot more questions now,” remarked the young head of the Star Fox team, his tipped tail swishing. “What are you… what are _you_ doing here? What am I doing here? Where… where _is_ here?”

Wolf scowled and looked towards the dark corner of the room. 

“I don’t know.”

Fox’s ears went back.

“What?”

Wolf’s frustrated sigh was coupled with the canine leaning his forehead against the wall.

“I don’t know where we are.”

“How’d we get here?”

“I don’t know that either.”

_He’s just as confused as I am. Great… Unless he’s lying? No. That’d be dumb. He wouldn’t have any reason to._

“Then it looks like we’re on the same page,” Fox said, easing himself down into the sitting position a few feet away from Wolf. 

He saw the canine visibly wince and scoot further into his corner, tattered and chipped ears back against the stone gray of his fur. Fox rolled his eyes but did not comment on it. He gingerly touched the back of his head again, feeling the lump. Someone had knocked him out and had taken him here-- that was certain. Had he been in the same place as Wolf? 

_Ugh. I can’t remember anything. I remember being on the Great Fox, listening to the radio with Slip. Then it just seems like white fog… and now I’m here. I don’t get it. Why can’t I remember?_

There had to be something. A clue. The vulpine looked around but the room they were in was featureless-- a metal box of a cell. Maybe it used to be a storage room once. Frustrated, he looked from the door to his cellmate, studying Wolf’s put-out expression carefully.

“How long have you been awake?” Fox inquired.

“Don’t know,” Wolf grumbled.

“Have you seen anyone else?”

“Nope.”

“Heard anyone?”

“Voices on the other side,” Wolf pointed at the door. “But no one I recognize. Either it’s a third party or you did something to make ol’ General Pepper pissed as _fuck_.”

“I think I’d remember if I had,” Fox remarked sourly.

“Would you?” Wolf quirked a bushy gray brow at him in disbelief.

“Shut up. It’s not like you didn’t get caught either.”

Fox felt the venom spew from his mouth unchecked. The way his own voice sounded to him surprised him. But he quickly stifled his astonishment, tipped ears flitting back as he glowered at his rival. 

It was hard not to hate Wolf O’Donnell, particularly after everything they had been through. Fox recalled the first time he had ever seen Wolf’s face—it was just a couple of days after he had received the notice that his father had died on Venom, at the hands of Andross and his forces. As soon as Fox had seen his wanted poster flash on the Corneria City billboards, he had memorized it and had resolved to learn whatever he could about his enemy. Peppy had been key in puzzling together Wolf’s involvement. 

Years before Andross had reared his ugly mug and announced his survival, Star Fox had been sent to capture Wolf O’Donnell, who was, at the time, one of the most notorious space pirates to roam the Lylat System. James McCloud had cooperated with Katinan authorities to bait Wolf into trying to steal some goods being moved to a Space Dynamics base near the capital. Of course the sting had been most of a success but Wolf had fled. Star Fox pursued, from what Fox gathered, and that led to a massive fight somewhere near Sector Z, and Wolf’s ship crashing on Zoness, where he was arrested. He had been subsequently tossed into prison without much of a trial. Not that it mattered. Everyone knew he had been guilty of just about every crime that he was accused of.

Perhaps there was part of Fox that understood his rival’s disdain for his father. After all, James McCloud had wrecked Wolf’s entire armada in the matter of days—years of building a reputation, all of those loyal crewmembers, Wolf’s tyrannical freedom… gone. Maybe Fox understood it a bit, from Wolf’s perspective. But personal grudges only beget more personal grudges. 

Peppy had recounted to Fox what he had witnessed at Venom. But there were parts of it that were shaky. The old hare did his best to remember everything, but Fox knew deeply that Peppy didn’t want to remember the details. His ravaged mind had blocked some things out. 

Including what had happened to James in those final moments.

Was Fox staring at his father’s killer?

The more the vulpine thought about it, the more he wanted to forego their thus-far uneasy truce and throttle his rival. He told himself there was no point. Wolf had done unspeakable things. He had possibly a hand in James’s death. But right now, Fox wasn’t convinced that Wolf O’Donnell wasn’t key to figuring out what had happened and where they were.

“What’re you staring at?” Wolf asked with a wrinkled snout.

“Nothing,” Fox sighed. 

The vulpine forced himself to stand back up, dusting his pants off with a hand. Despite the throbbing in his skull, he understood that they had to work quickly or their chances of surviving this was slim to none. He hobbled over toward the door again, pressing his ear against it. The chain dragged between him and Wolf loudly, scraping against the metallic floor. Wolf did not budge, staring off into space with a scowl written across his muzzle. As before, the chain stopped just short and Fox tossed a glare at his newfound _friend_.

“Can you move up some?”

“Why?”

“I want to see out the door.”

“It’s just a hall.”

“So?”

“Ugh. Fine.”

The vulpine thought for a moment to thank his cellmate but the words dried up in his mouth before they could escape. As Wolf awkwardly shuffled forward, sliding unceremoniously on his butt, the chain slacked enough so that Fox could peep out the small slit in the door. 

Artificial light blinded him for a moment but when his vision adjusted, the vulpine realized that Wolf had been correct. All he could see out the slit was a hallway—an old-fashioned one. Pipes ran alongside the walls. There were a few doors on either sides of the corridor. Emergency lights sat lining the sides of the ground but were unlit. Past that, Fox could determine nothing. 

He backed up and Wolf took the opportunity to scoot back into his previous resting position. As Fox looked back at his rival, he realized that his canid companion looked definitely worse for the wear. His Star Wolf uniform was slightly ripped at the collar. He sported a scabbed over cut beneath his right eye. In certain areas around his cheeks, his slate gray fur had gathered, jutting out in unkempt clumps. Wolf fired off a glare at Fox before he merged back into the shadows with a dreary exhale.

Fox thought it best not to provoke him further and decided to focus on the last thing he could remember.

It took some time but before long, the vulpine realized he had been on a mission. With a bit more time, Fox could remember steel corridors and the sound of footsteps—but everything was blurred out. He remembered his blaster being in hand. But that was it. Certainly nothing extraordinary in the life of a mercenary.

_I hope the other three are okay… Maybe I can try to tap the walls and see if anyone responds?_

It was a better idea than nothing, so the vulpine wandered over to the wall perpendicular to the one Wolf had claimed, pulling the chain taut as he did so. He reached out and knocked twice against the metal. No reply came. He tried again. Nothing happened. Wolf shot him a dirty look.

“Well. So far the only thing I’ve figured out is that we’re on a ship,” Fox confirmed, looking back at Wolf. 

“I coulda told you that, _moron_ ,” Wolf grumbled. The chain was so tight that Wolf’s arm stuck out a bit. The canine gave him a tired look.

“Insulting me isn’t gonna get us anywhere closer to being outta here, y’know,” Fox said and Wolf shrugged carelessly.

“It’ll at least pass the time.”

“You can’t be serious. We gotta get outta here ASAP.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Wolf said, adjusting his position so he looked dead at Fox and was leaning with his back to the wall. “But you need to save your energy, pup. Neither of us are in any shape for a break out. Giving yourself time to build up the right moment is key.”

“Sorry,” Fox grumbled. “Not all of us have experience breaking out of high security prisons.”

Wolf flashed him a fanged smile. “This isn’t even high security. No camera.”

With a clawed finger, he gestured to the corners of the ceiling. Fox glanced up and noticed the lack of cameras as well. He paused, frowning. This must have been an older vessel, then. Maybe as old as the Great Fox.

“You’re right,” Fox remarked.

“I usually am,” Wolf smirked, leaning his head against the wall smugly. 

“Well, if it’s best to wait, I guess we gotta,” Fox replied, settling down as far as he could from his rival. “Maybe we’ll start to remember something soon.”

Wolf did not reply.

If time passed, Fox only measured it by how increasingly hungry he got. He rested his head against the wall he was closest to, listening to the vibrations of the machinery around them. He almost drifted to sleep a few times but the pain in his head was enough to deny him rest. 

Sounds on the other side of the door caught both of their attention. Heavy, metallic noises clanged and the light through the door’s slot was shadowed. The banging was so loud that Fox winced. Russet fur standing on end, he watched the door as it gradually began to creak open. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Wolf bristle in the corner but not move. With intensity, they both stared at the newcomer, Fox’s heart racing.

A large silhouette filled the doorway. The light from behind their hulking form caused shadows to fall over the person’s face. From their body shape, Fox could tell it was some broad-shouldered feline of sorts. It took some time for his eyes to adjust but when he did, he realized he was staring at a fiery-furred tiger, who was carrying two food trays filled with some questionable sort of gruel. A few large earrings poked through the tiger’s rounded ears and his left brow was pierced as well. He wore a plain black flight suit with a ratty purple vest and a few miscellaneous pieces of armor over his body. Not enough armor to cover the skull tattoo interwoven with his stripes.

_Pirates,_ Fox realized. _These are space pirates._

“Make one move and you’re dead,” the tiger growled. 

Two more figures emerged behind the tiger—smaller and stockier but definitely armed. The first was a pale green iguana, his frills poking out like an elaborate mohawk. The other was a coyote with a golden fang on his right incisor and teardrop tattoos near both eyes. His bestial smile clearly had no pure intentions.

The tiger set the tray down in front of the door then looked at them both in suspicion. 

“We’ll tell the cap’n that they’re both awake,” the tiger said to the other two. The way he acted made Fox think that maybe he was superior to the other two.

To the two prisoners, the tiger flashed a savage grin.

“Welcome to the _Anarchy_. Cap’n Dreadfang is gonna be happy to know you’re both awake.”

* * *

**The Great Fox, near Sector Omega --**

“I hate everything about this,” Falco said for the thousandth time, knowing that his words were redundant but simultaneously knowing there was no other way.

His sharp eyes looked to Peppy, who was nursing his black, dark-roast coffee with both hands wrapped around it. The hare nodded sagely, the lines of his face betraying telltale signs of silent pain. The avian knew if there was anyone else who opposed this the most, it was the old man. But for some reason, Peppy was the biggest advocate for what they were about to do… and it made Falco’s feathers fluster with quiet rage.

“We all do, Falco, but this is the best chance we got!” Slippy shook his head. “Trust me, I’d rather you chunk me back into the Goras’s mouth instead of this but…”

And, again, the toad’s baby blues were lined with fat, sorrowful tears. Falco’s head jerked away, looking towards Peppy again. The avian couldn’t stand to see his frog companion cry and it looked like Peppy was of the same opinion. The hare stared evenly into his mug of coffee, as if it would give him the answer he sought so desperately. 

“We need to help Fox,” insisted their most-veteran pilot, his carmine eyes full of sorrow when he looked to his two teammates. 

Falco’s foot tapped against the tile of their lounge, setting an emotional, frantic beat. Arms folded over his chest, he scowled. No other way. They had to save Fox. They were all panicking and he was scared that it was going to destroy them in the end. And then where would Fox be?

“Yeah but… are we really gonna let _Star Wolf_ board the Great Fox?” Falco asked, locking eyes with Peppy.

The hare set his mug down. There was a sternness about his expression now, mixed into that quiet, heart-wrenching agony from before. It was a broth of emotions that Falco himself resonated with but he did not verbalize it. Peppy drew in a deep breath through his nostrils, his entire round body swelling with the inhale.

“I know, Falco,” Peppy said calmly.

Or tried to say calmly. Falco could tell in the way the skin near his left eye twitch that Peppy was most certainly _not okay_. The unfortunate reality they were facing was that they had no alternatives. None that were practical. And Falco hated that. He hated jumping on the wildest option and praying to every god above that it worked. Especially when it held Fox’s life in the balance.

“I could call Katt,” Falco suggested.

“You have no idea where Katt is though!” Slippy piped up. “Have you even seen her since Zoness?”

“That… that doesn’t change anything,” Falco huffed. “We could still call her and see if she could help. And Bill.”

“I already tried to call Bill,” Peppy shook his head. “Went straight to voicemail. Our reception isn’t great out here. We’re near the Outreach Rim and that’s at the edge of the Lylat System map. There’s barely any civilization out here.”

“Fara?” Falco suggested.

“Fara and Fox broke up,” Slippy began. “I’m not even sure if it was on good terms…”

“Fara would come in a heartbeat regardless, that I do know. But the situation remains that we are on the opposite side of the Lylat System from Corneria,” Peppy shook his head. “She’d never make it from Corneria City in time.”

“Ugh!” Falco exclaimed in exasperation. Anger boiling, he kicked out at the nearest thing he could find-- the leg of the team’s dinner table. His toe caught its edge and he yelped in pain. Peppy shook his head.

“Falco. Calm down.”

“How? Fox is in trouble and if Slippy’s right, this group that’s got him is notorious for vanishing off the radar—sometimes for _months_ before anyone sees them again!” Falco exclaimed. 

“I know that!” Peppy’s voice rose. “But kick that table again and so help me--”

“You’re really okay with working with _Pigma_ again?” Falco spat.

Slippy gasped.

“Of course I’m not!” Peppy snapped. “But if it means getting Fox back… I’ll do anything. And as the pilot here with the most seniority, I will make the decisions. We’re going to get Fox back. Even… even if…”

As if heralded by fate, ROB64’s voice came on over the intercom with an alarming beep. 

“Star Wolf has landed in the docking bay.”

Falco’s sapphire gaze turned to the ceiling for a moment, sighing and crossing his arms over his chest. Too late to protest now. Their new besties were already docking. Within moments, they would be convening to decide their next course of action… together. And hopefully by the end of this? Fox and Wolf would be back to their respective teams and maybe they could all worry about shooting each other again—back when life was much simpler. 

Peppy and Slippy glanced at each other and then uncertainly made their way out of the bridge. Falco rubbed his forehead, loitering behind them. Oh what a mess this was. What an absolute mess. If only they had realized what they had been walking into when they took that mission. Falco would’ve told Fox to tell the client to shove that paycheck right up their ass.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, old man,” Falco grumbled as he begrudgingly followed the other two out the door.


	3. Desperate Times, Desperate Measures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Star Wolf and Star Fox meet. Wolf and Fox try their first escape attempt.

**Hangar, The Great Fox, Near Sector Omega --**

For the first time in a long time, Leon Powalski was nervous. Everything about Peppy Hare’s message to the Star Wolf’s refurbished carrier, the _Nighthowl_ , made his scales prickle with uncertainty. The Star Fox team had chased Star Wolf across multiple galaxies, after all, and luring their three remaining members into their own territory put the motley band of space pirates in a vulnerable position. As if they weren’t already vulnerable without the judgment of their leader. Not that any of them showed it—well, except for Andrew who was an uneasy mess by the time the trio of Wolfens docked in the Great Fox’s hangar. 

It wasn’t that Leon could blame him. Andrew was the successor to Andross’s legacy—and the Cornerians knew it. Despite Wolf’s impressive criminal record, Leon was under the impression even his bounty was mild compared to Andrew’s. The simian looked around the docking bay anxiously, as if he expected one of the Arwings to come to life and start firing at them. 

“Home sweet home,” Pigma said in a way that Leon _almost_ mistook for bitterness.

“At the first sign of trouble, we leave,” Leon informed them, looking to his two cohorts. “And we take out anyone who gets in our way.”

“Roger, roger,” Pigma said with a sloppy salute.

They made it to the end of the hangar and wandered up the stairs towards the elevator leading to the rest of the Great Fox. Leon was by default the leader since Wolf was… _absent_ (admitting he was captured was something that gave the lizard even more anxiety) but he let Pigma take the lead, if only because the hog knew his way around their rival’s mothership. Pigma punched in the right floor when they got into the elevator and as the doors closed, the Venomian swore he heard Andrew squeak in fear.

“I really don’t know about this,” Andrew said. “Couldn’t this just be a trap?”

“They’re not in any better position than we are,” Leon pointed out. 

“Peppy ain’t known for traps,” Pigma retorted. “He’s not the sneaky type.”

“Well, I guess you would know better than anyone,” Andrew said reluctantly, slouching so that his back pressed against the cold elevator wall. “I just hate this.”

“No one likes it,” Leon replied. “But if it can get Wolf back…”

“What if he’s already dead?” Andrew asked quietly.

Leon’s jaw stiffened. Folding his arms across his thin chest, the lizard closed his eyes. Yes. It was possible their wise and glorious leader was already made into a corpse and everything they were doing was for nothing. But uncertainty made the Venomian believe this was worth it. Even if it meant stooping so low as to allying with the Star Fox team. He would have rather toiled and clawed his way through that space pirate’s vessel, than give up and never know if there was something they could have done…

Besides, there was little doubt in his mind that Wolf would have done the same for any of them. Yes. Perhaps even for snotty old Pigma.

The elevator doors opened and the first thing Leon saw was a robot. It was a strange off-white model, looking older, maybe from before the Lylat Wars. A single glimmering red band stretched across its face. It flashed once. Leon didn’t know what that meant but he sure as hell didn’t like it. The Venomian pulled his blaster immediately, shoving the barrel into the robot’s face. He bared his tiny rows of pointed teeth, hissing out his displeasure.

“I am ROB64,” the robot said, completely unimpressed by the display. “I am here to escort you to the bridge.”

“Oh, damn, they still have this guy around?” Pigma asked, poking the clunky-looking construct in its box-like chest. “James put this thing together a long time ago. Damn, I thought they woulda made him into scrap metal by now.”

Leon holstered his gun. Andrew leaned in, his amber eyes skirting up and down ROB64’s body. Hands on his hips, he gave a small scoff. The way his mouth gradually widened into a smug smirk made the Venomian slightly relieved—he would have preferred cocky and confident Andrew rather than nervous and jumping-at-his-own-shadow Andrew. It made for a better impression at the imminent meeting.

“Wow. That’s some primitive wiring going on there,” Andrew remarked, gesturing to some wires running along the robot’s neck. Leon tossed the simian a tired look.

“We really don’t have time for this,” the lizard scowled at him then looked to ROB64. “Lead the way.”

The walk through the Great Fox was somewhat enlightening. Leon could tell that the team had been maintaining a decent pay rate. The interior was well-cared for. No stains on the tile. No questionable dripping from the ceiling. Everything was silver and white, though, which made Leon felt a bit too much like he was intruding upon Cornerian territory. But maybe that made sense—the Great Fox was born from Cornerian minds, after all.

A few pictures had been attached to the walls somehow. There was a picture of the team on a beach on Zoness. It must’ve been recent, too, because the oceanic pollution seemed to be gone. Another one was a picture they had purchased from a trip to the Meteor Land Intergalactic Space Park. They were on a rollercoaster about to plummet downward. Falco and Slippy were hugging each other and screaming. Peppy looked bored. Fox had a delighted grin on his face. Leon scoffed at it, trying to imagine a world in which his team could have enjoyed such luxuries. Maybe that was just the price of losing the war. 

At the end of the hall, the doors to the bridge slid open. ROB64 led the way in and then shuffled off to the side awkwardly on his stiff legs. Leon stepped in first, struggling hard against his instincts to grab his blaster. Stepping into unknown territory was probably the scariest thing he could think of. He heard Pigma and Andrew step in behind him.

Falco, Slippy, and Peppy stood on the far side of the room. Leon’s eyes flitted across their faces, taking in each emotion he could spot. He had to decipher quickly if this was a trap. Not just for their sake’s but for Wolf’s as well.

The way that Falco stood made it clear to him that he was averse to their alliance. His feathery arms crossed his chest and he gave a small scoff at Leon, turning his curved beak away. Slippy was awkwardly twiddling his thumbs, dodging the Venomian’s steely glare. Peppy stared straight ahead, past Leon. The Venomian didn’t have to guess who he was looking at.

“Well, this is awkward,” Pigma broke the silence but not the tension.

“Erm… h-hello…” Slippy waved at them, mustering up a very strained smile.

“Hi,” Andrew replied coolly, averting his gaze by scanning the bridge. It was littered with various items—some form of gaming console, a weird palm tree shoved in the corner, a cluster of dashboards that Leon presumed piloted the mothership and helped with navigation, and a small table with a few miscellaneous items on it. Glass windows surrounded them and stars gleamed just beyond, alongside the violet swirl of the Omega nebula.

“You wanted us here,” Leon said coldly to the hare. “Talk. Or we’re out.”

Peppy gave a sigh.

“I’ll cut to the chase, I guess. If we want to get Fox and Wolf back, we’re going to have to work together. And that means sharing knowledge about our common enemy. What do you know about the _Anarchy?_ ” Peppy asked them, his carmine eyes moving to Leon.

“It’s a space pirate vessel,” Leon shrugged the question off. “A formidable dreadnought, one that is bolstered… _impressively_ , especially considering her crew. Normal vessels aren’t armored and guarded with such ferocity.”

“Tell us something we don’t know,” Falco retorted and the Venomian’s eyes flitted to the avian.

Falco Lombardi. The wild card. A talented kid with a knack for flying—that’s all he was. Leon had read his file during the Lylat Wars. He wasn’t even part of that famous Cornerian Academy—just some kid that kept breaking in and beating all the top students on the flight simulators. Fox had caught him trying to break in one day. What the vulpine should’ve done was turn him into the cops for his due punishment. But he hadn’t. He’d recruited the avian instead. A curious choice of action. Probably the only one Leon agreed with… except for the fact that the avian was a royal pain in his scales.

“Why were you on the _Anarchy?_ ” Peppy asked.

“Confidential business,” Leon answered coolly. “Between us and our client.”

“You really think we’re gonna just blabber to you all our plans?” Andrew chimed in and Leon wished he hadn’t. “Jeez, you must really think we’re stupid.”

“We’re going to need to work together if we’re going to get them back!” Peppy said, anger rising in his voice.

“Oh, Peppy… Some things never change,” Pigma smirked.

“Don’t you _dare_ talk to him,” Falco began angrily.

“Still cluckin’ like a mother hen,” Pigma continued on, smirk widening.

“I’ll make you into bacon, pig, don’t test me,” Falco took a step forward.

“Try it, birdbrain,” Andrew challenged.

“Falcooooo…” Slippy whined nervously.

“Stop!” Peppy yelled, holding up both of his hands. “Just stop. This isn’t getting us anywhere.”

“Quiet,” Leon hissed to Andrew and Pigma then looked at Peppy. “If you want information from us, prove to me that you will cooperate and that this is not a trap. Tell us why _you_ were on the _Anarchy_.”

“Like hell we will,” Falco snapped. “If you’re not gonna tell us shit, then I don’t see why we should tell you anything.”

“ _Falco_ ,” Peppy scolded him then looked to Leon. “We were there for a search and retrieve mission. You?”

Leon’s carnelian eyes narrowed for a moment, looking the hare over carefully. Perhaps it would be wise to throw the dog a bone. So to speak. Their cooperation was likely going to be needed moving forward. Besides, the Venomian reasoned he didn’t have to give them details. He walked a few steps forward, a single word slipping from his pointed snout.

“ _Assassination_.”

“Oh,” Slippy’s eyes widened.

“ _Leeeeeooooon_ …” Andrew whined. “I thought we weren’t gonna tell them anything!”

“We will need their help,” Leon said, not looking back at the simian. “I care only about retrieving Wolf at this point. Mission be damned.” 

“Heh, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. The pay is good,” Pigma piped up.

“Do you know anything about the space pirates on the _Anarchy?_ ” Peppy asked.

Leon hesitated for a moment. What a… peculiar question. One with a definite answer. An answer that the Venomian was definitely not willing to give their prying allies. That involved a tale that Leon was not willing to share with them.

“No.”

“You have to know something if you were sent on a mission to assassinate someone in their crew,” Falco pointed out.

“Did I say it was someone on their crew?” Leon asked, quirking a scaly brow.

That gave the avian pause. He could see mistrust brewing in Falco’s sharp ocean blue eyes. It gave him a tiny sense of satisfaction. But gloating in the avian’s broiling anger wouldn’t get them anywhere closer to Wolf. The lizard sighed. Time to lay out a few facts to get the conversation rolling.

“I am sure you know of Sentry, the web-like network of beacons across the Lylat System that were created by the Cornerians. They monitor traffic across the Lylat System, keeping an eye out for wanted criminals,” Leon explained. “It is this traffic system that has reported that the _Anarchy_ is only sighted once every few months and that it’s likely the _Anarchy_ has some form of cloaking device that has figured out how to bypass Sentry’s beacons. Does this correlate with your intel?”

“Yes…” Peppy said uncertainly, his ears back.

“Heh. It’s bogus,” Pigma grinned. “Betcha didn’t see that shit comin’.”

“Andrew, this is your area of expertise. Indulge them with a bit of info,” Leon said, looking to where the simian had wandered over to the palm tree in the corner and was keenly observing its leaves.

“Oh,” Andrew glanced over his shoulder. “Ugh. You really want me to tell them about that?”

“Andrew,” Leon scowled.

The simian sighed and shrugged, “So, not sure how, but the _Anarchy_ has a portaling device. A straight up rip of my uncle’s work.”

Slippy gasped and Peppy blinked in surprise. 

“How’s that even possible? When our engineers at Space Dynamics got a hold of the tech, they weren’t even able to figure out how it worked. You’re telling me a bunch of _space pirates_ have it figured out?” Peppy asked incredulously.

“Hey, don’t get mad at me. You guys are the ones who _stole_ it, remember?” Andrew scowled at them. “Anyways, the device they have doesn’t immediately drop someone out into the area they wanna be at. There’s a bit of a pocket dimension you have to travel through. It’s kind of like… ugh. I’m putting this in layman’s terms the best I can…”

“We’ve seen it,” Slippy spoke up. “It’s colorful and stuff.”

“Yeah!” Andrew nodded. “It’s usually a place you don’t wanna stay in very long. Lots of… weird stuff could happen. ‘Cause other dimension. Time. Space. Y’know. But my uncle, the genius he was, figured out a way to stabilize life in there. He was even to fit a whole base in there at one point. Er… you probably remember that… you guys blew it up…”

“Sorry, not sorry,” Falco shrugged.

With a tiny huff, Andrew put his hands on his hips. “Anyways, the _Anarchy_ hits its target then slips into the other dimension. Pretty effective for getting around Sentry without constantly being harassed by the CDF. But there’s a problem because the tech they’re using isn’t perfected. They can’t constantly do it. They gotta charge it. I don’t really know how they’re charging it if I’m honest. So sometimes they hit their target but they can’t immediately leave. And if they do leave, they can’t stay in the other dimension for long ‘cause rule one of jumping dimensions is you never wanna go in without a way to get out. Or that could be _very_ bad. But point is, they bypass Sentry because they’re jumping around the Lylat System. And with this particular tech, they can stay in for a while longer than normal if they have enough resources.”

“They can stay in there for months?!” Peppy asked, alarmed.

“No…” Slippy began. “I think I see where this is going.”

“Well, other dimensions and time,” Andrew pointed out. “It might not be long for them but it’s long for _us_ , if that makes any sense.”

“It doesn’t,” Peppy said.

Andrew sighs in exasperation. “Okay, okay. I’ll try to dumb it down a little more for you. The _Anarchy_ can slip into another dimension where time moves differently because they’re using an imperfect model of my uncle’s work. There’s… various rules about how this works but don’t bother trying to learn them. Just let me handle that.”

“I… okay…” Peppy relented.

“I still don’t get where they got this tech from,” Slippy frowned. “This isn’t normal space pirate stuff.”

“Heh, damn right it’s not,” Pigma remarked with a cheeky grin. “And that’s why this is a big problem. ‘Cause if that ship goes _poof_ , so does Fox and Wolf and we don’t know where or when they’ll turn up. A day from now, in Zoness? A week from now in Katina? Dunno.”

“We’re lucky, though, because the _Anarchy_ is still near Sector Omega,” Andrew said. “It’s charging up its next jump and we don’t know where that will be. Or when.”

“If it has to charge, it’ll be building power of some sort,” Slippy said excitedly, running over to the Great Fox’s main dashboard. He began typing frantically. “I can try to figure out how much charge they’ve built. Maybe I can even figure out what _kind_ of charge it is.”

“Hm,” Andrew rubbed his chin. “Not the worst idea but can a hunk of junk like this really do that?”

“You think I haven’t modified our scanning systems?” Slippy challenges.

“Judging from your robot, I’d be surprised if anyone with more than two brain cells has done _any_ modification of _any_ kind on _anything_ ,” Andrew retorted but watched the toad work with a keen, curious eye.

Pigma looked to the other three with a smirk. “Well, fact o’ the matter remains that we gotta get our boys back before the ship jumps. Else we’re more than screwed.”

“So let’s come up with a battle plan,” Falco decided. “So we can get back to shooting each other.”

The swine chuckled, wandering over to the map of the Lylat System. He clapped Peppy on the shoulder and the hare winced. Falco bristled nearby.

“I’m sure between us and good ol’ Pepster here, we’ll figure something out,” Pigma smiled charmingly.

* * *

**The _Anarchy_ , near Sector Omega –**

Well this was a nightmare and Wolf O’Donnell wasn’t just referring to the paltry meal that the tiger had given them. He glanced at the goopy, poor excuse for food with an uncertain violet eye. And then he looked to his newfound “friend”, equally scrutinizing the vulpine’s every move. There was a part of him that wondered if he drifted off to sleep, if he wouldn’t awaken to Fox strangling him with the chain they shared. But he knew the kit was too soft. He had those dazzling green eyes that viewed the world with such light. Such passion. Even the Lylat Wars hadn’t reaped him of his optimism. Wolf wondered what it was like to be so ignorant.

He ate the mush that the tiger had given them, knowing that it was better than starving. It tasted bland but he swallowed it down without much difficulty. A snide part of him wondered if he could persuade his way onto the crew as a proper chef. If this was the shit these pirates were eating, no wonder they were so angry.

Mildly thankful that Fox took his advice to rest until the opportune moment presented itself, Wolf curled up into his corner, leaning his brow against the cold of the cell’s interior wall. He closed his eye, struggling hard against the fog of amnesia to remember how they had gotten into this sorry position in the first place. But no matter how hard Wolf tried to claw his way to the truth, it eluded him, dancing in the mist of memory loss and taunting him.

Sleep came for him before he knew it. It was shallow, restless, and cruel. It tormented him with vague images, disembodied voices. Separate pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. They didn’t seem to fit together. Until suddenly, there was clarity. If only for a moment.

* * *

_Pigma bounded into the Nighthowl’s bridge, waving something overhead wildly. He collided with the door, stumbling about and nearly dropping the item in his hands but managed to keep his grasp. His breath was haggard from exhaustion from a decent sprint. Wolf could sense Leon’s distaste for the racket immediately, the lizard stirring in his chair and curling onto his side. As if somehow that blotted out the hog’s raucous behavior._

_“Wolf! Wolf! I got us a mission! I got us a mission!” the hog hollered and the lupine glanced over at him over his shoulder._

_“What is it now?” Wolf asked and the swine plopped a small recording device into his palm. Wolf glanced down at it and then at the hog, questioningly quirking a brow at him. “This isn’t some damn wild goose chase like last time, is it?”_

_“Don’t care what is it, as long as it pays good,” Andrew commented from where he sat over by the navigation. He was fiddling with some sort of barrier device he had lifted from a merc on their latest mission. “I’d kill for some pizza.”_

_“No pizza until we’re in the green again,” Wolf reiterated the newest rule with a growl, looking at the device that Pigma had given him. “This had better be good.”_

_“It is!” Pigma insisted. “Just listen to it, Wolf. I promise you won’t regret it.”_

_Wolf sighed and clicked on the recording device._

* * *

“Wolf.”

A voice tore him from the dream. Or was it a memory? He couldn’t tell. Wolf cracked open his eye, looking over at Fox, who had evidently decided to not take his advice at all. The vulpine was reaching towards an air vent he had spied overhead. His fingers were just shy of the vent’s grate. Wolf’s gaze narrowed and he observed that the nails screwing it in seemed weak, as if they hadn’t been attached properly. It wasn’t the worst idea Fox had come up with. 

“Do you think you could give me a boost?” Fox asked and Wolf scowled at him.

“Not a fucking chance, kid,” Wolf replied, shutting his eye.

“I might be able to fit!” Fox explained. “And if I can, I can get us help.”

“We’re chained together. You can maybe fit. I can’t,” Wolf pointed out.

“We won’t know unless we try,” Fox said, clearly determined. 

“Fine,” Wolf sighed. “But it won’t work.”

He stood up, stretching and feeling his back pop. Quietly, Wolf braced himself to lift the smaller vulpine up, telling himself to not “accidentally” drop him. It would be funny, he reasoned, but probably counter-productive. As much as he loathed it, he knew he would likely need Fox alive and well if he were to make it out of this mess alive. 

“Okay, let’s do this,” Fox began, taking in a deep breath as Wolf knelt down.

The vulpine shimmied onto Wolf’s back, stepping on his tail in the process. Wolf growled but Fox seemed to pay him no mind. Once Fox had made it onto Wolf’s shoulders, Wolf began to rise up gradually. Fox was lighter than he had anticipated but not nearly light enough that it felt like he was carrying nothing. 

Wolf didn’t notice anything was wrong until he reached full height. It hit him like a train, his vision blinded by pain. His chest erupted in agony—burning like fire and echoing into his limbs. Fox’s yelps filled his tattered ears as Wolf fell, one of his hands grabbing for the wall for support. His claws scraped helplessly against the metal and he sank to the floor on his side. Fox thudded somewhere in the background, somewhere Wolf couldn’t see.

“Shit…” Wolf cursed, grabbing his chest and gasping for air.

“What the hell…” Fox groaned.

A new few gripped the lupine suddenly. He undid the buttons of his jacket until the shirt he wore underneath was exposed. He pulled his shirt up to his nape, glancing down at his torso in horror. Marring his gray and white fur was a single mark on his chest—too wide to be a bullet wound. It looked like a burn of some sort, creating a thick, bumpy circle on his chest. One of the canine’s fingers went to touch the reddened mark on his chest and as soon as his fingertips caressed it, the pain came back. He gasped, biting back a scream.

“Wolf?” Fox’s voice sounded shaky. “What… what happened…?”

The vulpine crawled over towards him, sporting a small cut over his brow from his fall. Or maybe from hitting his head on the wall. Wolf wasn’t sure. He was grabbing near his chest as well, jaw clenched in pain. His watery green eyes moved to the mark on Wolf’s chest and snapped wide in fright. Wordlessly, Fox pulled down the neckline of his shirt, exposing his chest. A burn mark similar to Wolf’s was on his chest, seared through his creamy fur. 

“What did they do…” Fox began uncertainly.

“That… must be how they got us,” Wolf breathed. “Shit, I haven’t seen one of these in a while…”

“What… what is it?” Fox asked.

“Viper Mark IV stun guns,” Wolf replied. “Non-lethal force blasters. They use ‘em on prisoners back at Chasma Penitentiary.”

_You know. Where your pops left me to rot._

“For… what?” Fox asked.

“To make sure they don’t try to run,” Wolf replied, leaning his head back against the floor. “One hit’s all it takes. Leaves a nasty burn mark on impact. The laser strikes your nerve system. Completely cripples you for a few seconds. If you’re lucky, you hit your head and pass out to dodge the pain.”

“Then… what does this mean?” Fox asked.

“Means someone _really_ doesn’t like us,” Wolf answered, closing his eyes. “But not enough to kill us outright.”

“I wish I could remember,” Fox said quietly and Wolf silently shared the sentiment.


	4. Tension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans are made and some things start coming to light...

**The Bridge, The Great Fox, Near Sector Omega –**

Pigma was many things but he was first and foremost, cruising for a bruising. At least in Falco’s opinion but it’s not like that mattered for shit anyways because Peppy seemed so keen to work with these bandits. The avian kept a wary eye on the swine as they took stock of their resources. Things would have been very different if this had all happened closer to the Lylatian metro, but out here near Sector Omega, there was barely any notable settlements to pick up supplies like fuel cells or even spare parts. 

They spread the weapons onto the ground, certain to keep each team’s equipment separate. Most of Star Wolf’s arsenal was weaponry. Not that Falco was surprised—they dealt in killing and thievery, after all, why wouldn’t they boast such a large weapon supply? He noted, though, that most of their weaponry was dated. Not by much but by enough to make him wonder if they just hadn’t stocked up in some time. A couple of years, even. Or maybe they were just picking weapons off of whatever sorry idiot they ended up making a corpse. 

“We’re proooooobably gonna need all of these,” Pigma gestured to his stockpile of grenades, which were just sitting on their dinner table as if it wasn’t a big deal. Falco could see the corner of Peppy’s left eye twitch.

“We’re going to _save_ them, not _blow_ _them up_ ,” the hare reminded the swine carefully, voice taut.

“That ship’s got a looooot of baddies on it,” Pigma shrugged with one of his cheesy grins. “Boom, boom, boom, better than nothing.”

“Until we blow a hole in the ship and it takes us all down with it,” Peppy scowled.

“You used to be more fun,” Pigma complained but Falco was no fool. He could see the edge of the pig’s mouth curl upward in a provoking grin as he scooped the grenades up into his arms and dropped them unceremoniously into a bag. Peppy winced, as if expecting the grenades to go off.

“Yeah no thanks,” Falco said to Pigma. “I’m not gonna be in the room if you’re gonna throw those around.”

“Heh, guess it would be a shame if one went off near ya tailfeathers,” Pigma grinned and Falco scoffed.

“Try it and I’ll shove one down your throat.”

The avian could see protest in Peppy’s eyes. But the hare didn’t say anything. Falco knew there was part of him that wanted the slimy hog to drop dead on the spot. Maybe that part of him was starting to outweigh the part of him that thought cooperating with Star Wolf was a good idea. Falco could only hope. He still didn’t think this was necessary, even if their rivals had given them a hefty bit of important intel. 

Pigma smiled at Falco in a way that made the skin under his plumage crawl and simultaneously made him have more than a few homicidal thoughts. The swine sat the bag down and, without much bidding, began to wander over where Falco had set up a gaming area comprising of a console, flatscreen TV, and a comfy couch. With a hand on his chin, the hog began to look it over. 

“Console loser,” the swine breathed, but was sure to make it loud enough for the avian to hear.

Falco folded his arms, feathers clearly ruffled. Seemingly unsatisfied at Falco’s more modest response, Pigma picked up the remote and turned the TV on. The room filled with the harsh, grinding noise of static and the hog hastily turned the volume down with a cringe. 

“We’re too far out for signal,” Peppy said shortly but Pigma acted like he didn’t hear him and began trying to flip through the channels.

“Whatever,” Falco remarked and looked down at the weaponry Star Fox had decided to provide.

He had never felt super comfortable fighting with a gun, at least, not to the same level of comfort he felt in his Arwing. That was more of Fox’s thing. Falco, of course, had his own blaster, a Cornerian-made one that Fox had bought for him when he joined the team. As Falco ran his hand over one of the sniper rifles, he lamented silently to himself about how he should’ve bothered to practice shooting more. Maybe then, Fox would still be with them and they wouldn’t be in this awful situation. 

“Good news and bad news,” Slippy announced as he and Andrew wandered back over to them. “Good news is we have a few hours before the _Anarchy_ makes its jump and it just seems to be sitting put until then. Two and a half hours until the device is ready, to be precise. Bad news is we _only_ have two and a half hours.”

“That doesn’t seem good at all,” Falco scowled at him.

“Better than five minutes,” Andrew shot back. “Anyways, it’s still not a lot of time to prepare. What do we have for a plan or am _I_ gonna have to figure that out too?”

“Hey, I helped with the scanner,” Slippy pouted. “I’m gonna go and inspect our Arwings really quick. _Pleeeeease_ have a plan together by the time I’m back?”

He looked directly at Peppy, who gave a firm nod, accompanied with a small grunt. 

“Heh, guess I better check the Wolfens, too,” Pigma remarked. 

Both swine and toad vanished through the doors leading out of the bridge, which left the four remaining to begin planning. They gathered around the table, each sitting on a different side. Peppy and Falco were next to each other and Andrew and Leon were on the other side. The simian thumbed through his cloudy white fur atop his head, furiously rubbing at his chin as he contemplated something. Leon stared coldly ahead at Peppy and the hare fiddled with some of the hair beneath his nose.

“Two and a half hours,” Peppy repeated. “With a ship like that, I’m tempted to say our best plan is just to hit it with everything we’ve got. I have schematics pulled up from…” The hare’s words faltered for a moment before he continued, very pointedly side-eyeing Falco. “From _our_ client. ROB, can you show us the enemy vessel?”

ROB wandered over, a compartment in his midsection opening up. A small hologram beamed out, displaying the _Anarchy_ in its sharp and lethal-looking glory. Falco had never been good at identifying huge ships like this. If he had to guess, the ship had been custom-made to fit its captain’s desires. Its central cannon was masked by a vicious fanged skull that looked ursine. Side cannons lined the ship’s body and a dark purple-red jet of fire coursed from the exhaust pipes at the end. The front had a massive glass window but Falco didn’t doubt it had been made so thick that normal lasers couldn’t hope to penetrate it. 

“They say the captain aboard this ship is called Dreadfang,” Peppy said darkly. “An apt name for a pirate lord, I guess.”

“She’s…” Andrew began sourly. “… _something._ ”

“She?” Falco quirked a brow.

“She’s brutal,” Leon said, taking over the conversation with a steely voice. “In fact, I plan to pack medical supplies when we board the ship. But I… do not doubt Fox and Wolf are alive.”

“What makes you say that?” Falco asked and Leon only replied with a tiny, sinister smirk that made the avian feel uncomfortable.

“You think she’s torturing them?” Peppy asked in concern.

“I do not doubt it,” Leon shrugged. “But I know Wolf. He can handle anything.”

“Yeah, well, so can Fox,” Falco shot back.

“Hmph. Well, if we’re going to attack via ship, we will have to take care not to shoot the plane down,” Leon said coolly, looking to Peppy. “Andrew has reason to believe the teleportation device is attached to the rear of the ship with a channeling mechanism that runs through the ship and fires a portal near the main cannon.”

“Disrupt the teleportation device’s system and it can’t make a portal… is that what you’re thinking?” Peppy asked.

“Yes,” Leon replied. “Doing so from the outside will be difficult but I believe if we can strike the underside, we are more likely to find where they have fastened the device.”

“Do we have schematics on this ship’s build?” Falco asked. “I’m guessing the skull doesn’t usually come with this sort of ship.”

“No, we don’t really know what make and model it is,” Peppy frowned. “Unless you know, Leon?”

“No,” the lizard replied curtly.

“Then we’ll have to _guess_ where the device is?” Falco asked in exasperation.

“We know there’s a way to project the portals—why not target that instead of blindly firing where it _could_ be channeling through?” Peppy asked. He reached out to touch the hologram, which rippled at his fingertip. The hare gestured to the front of the ship. “If we know it’s coming out of here, then we know that’s the place to look. Something like that can’t be hard to miss.”

“Right in front of the cannons,” Leon smiled wryly.

“Just makes it that much more fun,” Falco said bitterly.

“Then I guess that’s our plan. Disable how the device projects the portal out in front of the ship and board it. Looks like there’s a hanger entrance on the left side,” Peppy pointed out on the hologram. “We get in, we find Fox and Wolf, we get out.”

“Simple enough,” Leon mused. “But it is better than nothing.”

“There may be a way…” Andrew chimed in although his voice quickly fell into a murmur. 

“Spit it out,” Falco snapped.

“I’m thinking!” Andrew snapped back. “The ship has to be sitting put for a reason.”

“Like…?” Falco prompted.

“Rerouting power,” Andrew guessed. “Maybe if they aren’t diverting power to the engines to move forward, they can use it to exponentially increase the power building in the teleportation device?”

“O-okay?” Falco asked.

“My point is, even if we, for some dumb reason, _fail_ to hit the projecting part of the device, we can still delay their jump if we make them move,” Andrew said. “It won’t be by much. Maybe minutes? But that’s all we need. And, if worse comes to worse…”

His yellow eyes move to Leon.

“It may not even be about hitting the ship, so much as getting someone on board. Someone who could message us where the ship lands.”

“I am prepared,” Leon said, bowing his head.

“To what? Fly into their ship and try to take the entire crew out by yourself?” Falco asked incredulously.

“If I must,” Leon replied.

“That’s suicide,” the avian retorted.

“If it will save Wolf, then I will do it,” Leon said calmly.

“Falco, why don’t you go check on Pigma and Slippy?” Peppy suggested. “I’ll get the supplies gathered up and bring them to the hanger in a bit. Just wanna… make sure they’re getting along.”

The hare’s carmine eyes shifted for a moment to the left—a nervous tick of his. Falco understood and he nodded. While he still didn’t agree with Peppy’s decision, he respected the old man enough to check on Slippy for him. If anything to give him peace of mind… and maybe even some peace of mind for Falco, too.

“Sure thing.”

As the avian walked away, he caught a glimpse of the TV screen. They must have gotten signal for a brief moment because the news was playing. He didn’t pay much attention to what was on screen, tossing a gander long enough to see the news anchor fervently talking about something with Corneria City in the background and the words ‘Cornerian Army Commander Declared Missing in Action’ scroll idly by at the bottom. It just seemed like everyone was having a bad day and Falco mused to himself that even with signal out here, General Pepper was already busy trying to figure _that_ mess out. Provided, the old hound dog could even find troops to send out this far.

Falco brushed the top of his head with a hand as he walked towards the doors to straighten out his feathers. The automatic door slid open and the avian made his way towards the hanger, mentally bracing himself for whatever verbal thrashing he was going to give Pigma on the chance he walked in and Slippy was upset. He had a few hefty insults in his repertoire and he couldn’t wait to see how they made Pigma’s haughty attitude wither.

Falco was midway through coming up with what he would say when a noise caught his ear. He came to a halt abruptly. Tilting his head slightly, the slender avian listened and realized the noise sounded an awful lot like a voice coming from one of the nearby rooms. Sapphire eyes darting amid the doors, he quietly inched down the hall until he could determine that the voice was coming from the team’s pantry.

The door was slightly ajar and within it, Falco could see faint light moving about. Cautiously, he pressed his back to the wall nearby and listened to see if he could determine who was inside and what they were doing.

“Y-yeah, yeah, sorry Miss Savanna, I just think it’s gonna take a _liiiiiiiiiiittle_ more time than we thought. There’s just been a few too many hiccups… didn’t really expect the crew to have the weapons they had…”

The voice was Pigma’s and Falco felt his heartrate quicken with anxiety.

“How much more time are we talking, Dengar? My boss is not a patient man and he has already phoned me twice asking if you were successful,” came the other voice, feminine and cold. 

“Tell ‘im that we’re still workin’ on it,” Pigma said quickly. “W-we’re about to head out now, as a matter o’ fact!”

“Hmm, how’s this—if he calls me again, I’ll forward it to you,” came the reply. “And you can explain to him why he doesn’t have his documents in-hand.”

Falco’s brow furrowed. Documents? Didn’t Leon say something about an assassination?

“Erm… That’ll be a little hard if I’m on the _Anarchy…_ ” Pigma fumbled.

“Oh, I’m sure you can figure it out,” Savanna replied curtly. “Listen, Dengar… I like you. I really do. You’re a man who knows how to get stuff done. But believe me when I say this: if that ship makes it to this… _‘Mr. B’_ … or whatever… I swear, I will raise a bounty on Star Wolf so high that you won’t be able to so much as take a piss in a Lylatian fuel station without someone trying to shoot that ugly mug of yours. Am I clear?”

“Y-yes, ma’am!” Pigma exclaimed hastily.

Falco could sense the conversation ending and realized getting caught by Pigma would at least jeopardize their alliance. While he wanted nothing more than to kick Star Wolf’s scummy tails out the airlock, he knew Peppy would disagree heavily with terminating their partnership. Falco decided to carry on down the hall, digesting what he had heard carefully.

“Good. Don’t call me until you have what we requested in order,” Savanna said as the avian snuck by the door quickly.

Filled with thoughts and apprehension, the avian began towards the elevator that would take him to the hanger. He rubbed his beak, massaging his jaw. Mr. B? Documents? This didn’t seem at all like what Leon had been letting on. It made Falco wonder just who this Savanna person was and what her boss was so desperate to obtain. He filed that info away for later, knowing he needed to tell at least Peppy what he had discovered. On the chance that Star Wolf was planning on turning in secret Cornerian intel to another planet… well, Falco had a feeling that wouldn’t go over so well if it was discovered Star Fox had helped, even unknowingly. And maybe General Pepper would fork over a fine reward for it.

Maybe even a reward for catching Star Wolf, too. 

* * *

**The _Anarchy,_ Near Sector Omega –**

Fox spent the next hour testing his limitations with the nasty burn mark on his chest. He found quickly that he could move his arms and legs just fine, but when he had to do strenuous work with his torso, the mark acted up. It didn’t seem to act like a normal burn. When it flared, it was ugly, the pain so blinding that it would send flashes of light dancing across his vision. It was the worst when he was trying to do pushups, the agony causing his elbows to buckle and for his snout to abruptly meet the cold metal floor. When the pain did gradually ebb away, Fox lay down on his back for a while, working on steadying his breath.

“The burn’s old,” Wolf said after watching the vulpine writhe for some time. It felt like that’s all he did. Sulk and watch and do nothing to help. “When it hits you, it’s so painful that you can’t even wear fabric.” 

Fox wondered if he was speaking from experience.

“Don’t get how we couldn’t tell it was even there until now,” Fox remarked and Wolf scowled.

“Didn’t you hear me? It’s old. It’s not hurting nearly as bad as it _should_.”

“It’ll just get better though?”

“If you keep asking me stupid questions, I’ll make sure yours _won’t_.”

The venom in his voice was so powerful that the vulpine could feel it. He wrinkled his muzzle at his cellmate, carefully sitting up. Part of him wanted to toss back a challenge to Wolf but he bit it back. Would yelling really help at a time like this? Logically, no. But Fox couldn’t deny the more he was around Wolf’s sour ass, the more he wanted to sock him straight in the muzzle. 

“So do you have a plan or not?” Fox asked in exasperation. “Or are we really just supposed to sit here until the perfect opportunity arises?”

“I figured you’d just crawl around on my back some more,” Wolf said snidely. “Since that seemed to work _so well_ the first time.”

“Listen,” Fox retorted sharply. “I’m asking you ‘cause evidently you’re the _expert_ when it comes to breaking outta jail.”

Wolf’s tattered ears flattened against his skull and he emitted a low growl.

“I’m not above thrashing. you. I hope you know that, whelp,” Wolf sneered.

“Oh, I know,” Fox replied. “But tell me how that gets us outta here.”

“I don’t care about _you_ getting outta here,” Wolf said coldly. “I care about _me_ getting out. The only thing keeping you alive right now is this.” He pointed with a clawed finger at the chain holding them together.

Fox’s eyes darted to the chain for a minute. There was a part of him that recognized he almost _wanted_ Wolf to try to attack him. It would give him an excuse to cut the feeble civility and give in to those old angers from the Lylat Wars. Wolf might have worn his emotions on his sleeve but Fox knew better than to. It wouldn’t get them out of this situation alive… but damn, throttling Wolf O’Donnell would feel _incredibly_ good right about now. 

“Just caring about yourself. Typical,” Fox shot back.

“Oh can it, pup. You know you’re the same way. You wouldn’t give a rat’s ass if I died here,” Wolf spat and Fox couldn’t bring himself to admit it aloud.

Rage that he hadn’t seen in years crept up his spine. The vulpine fought to keep his expression level, not wanting to give Wolf the satisfaction of knowing he was right. Maybe they were only cooperating because they were tethered together. Maybe in any other circumstance, one of them would already be dead on the cell floor by now at the hand of the other.

A darker part of him, an impulsive part of him, wanted to grab Wolf by the throat and slam him into the wall until he confessed the truth about James’s death. Until he told Fox everything. At the thought, the vulpine could feel his fingers squeeze open air, trapping it into a clenched fist. 

Fox tugged those bottled emotions back, trying to bridle them. They simmered down after a long silence and he was left to contemplate how intense his hatred was, how much he didn’t want to hold it back… but did anyways. Fox told himself this is what his father would’ve done in his position. The thought gave him pause. His _father_. The very source for this feud.

When James had been around, Fox had never bothered to hear much about his old man’s mercenary tales. All it did was remind the vulpine how absent James had been in his life. When everyone revered your dad, it was hard to not revere him in a way, too. But heroes didn’t get to have normal lives, no matter how normal the rest of their family was. Shoving Fox off onto Vivian Hare was James’s specialty and maybe for a while, Fox had not seen that as a bad thing. It made sense back then, right? James had work to do and Fox was too young to care for himself. So Vivian stepped in and, conveniently, Lucy was around Fox’s age. A built-in babysitter and best friend. 

Fox had not realized there was a problem until later, when he realized there were days his father felt like a complete stranger to him when he did come home. It made him not want to ask and that fed into his regret when James had died not being able to brag to his son about his escapades across the Lylat System. Fox had, of course, found out about most of them later through a journal James had left behind—even the ones James probably didn’t want his son to know about. 

But that’s how Fox had found out about Wolf and his grudge against James. It was funny. When Peppy talked about that day, he acted like it was nothing more than a regular old mission. Nothing special. Just a sting against one of the biggest space pirate lords in Lylatian history. Maybe it was the feeling of being dragged from on top that hurt Wolf so bad. When the mighty fell, it created waves and marred their ego with shame. James had probably never even seen Wolf as a rival, now that Fox thought on it.

A shadow fell across the window in the door and Fox’s head snapped in its direction immediately. When the door creaked open, two familiar faces arrived—the coyote and iguana from before. Their tiger companion was noticeably absent. Fox squinted in the light that flooded in, his ears back.

The iguana had two blasters out, pointed at both prisoners as the coyote walked in with an old rusty bucket in his hand. He tossed the bucket into an empty corner and glanced at the two. 

“Cap’n said to give ya somethin’ to take a leak in. Doesn’t want ya to stain the floor and make the hall stink,” the coyote declared, flashing his gold-toothed grin at them both. “Hehehe, you both rightly look like shit.”

“Who are you!?” Fox growled. “And what the hell do you want with us?”

“Eh what’s this?” the coyote asked in confusion. “Ya don’t know who we are?”

“Funny, yer the ones that attacked _us_!” the iguana retorted with a scoff. “Damn, mebbe Cap’n hit ‘em harder than we thought…”

“Ehhhh wouldn’t doubt it,” the coyote shrugged. “Usually most people don’t even live after they get on her bad side… these two are lucky as hell.”

“Heh, well, yer noggins will heal up sooner or later, eh? Mebbe you’ll remember before yer sent out da airlock,” the iguana sneered. “Hope we getta boot ‘em soon, eh Snap? Don’t like being on no nanny duty.”

“Oi, oi, ‘member, Gutter, the Cap’n wants these two wit’ us when we get to _Providence_ ,” the coyote shook his head. “Says big bucks for these two, eh? Maybe we get a cut if we keep ‘em nice an’ sharp lookin’.”

“Wot’s Mr. B want with these two?” Gutter scowled. “Ahh ferget it, I don’t ask no questions—ya get shot that way. C’mon, let’s head back up top.”

“Who’s Mr. B?” Fox asked angrily. “What the hell is a _Providence_!?”

“Oh he’s kinda funny when he’s mad,” Snap chuckled as he waltzed through the door and into the light of the hall. Gutter flitted his tongue and followed him out, kicking the door closed behind them.

When darkness filled the cell again, Fox’s eyes took some time to adjust. He tossed a glare over towards Wolf, noting his silence during the exchange. However, what he saw was more than just a little surprising. Wolf rose from the ground, his single eye staring an angered hole through the door and his ears back. He mouthed a word over and over again in thought, voice rising into a small whisper.

“ _Providence_ … _Providence_ …”

“Are you remembering something?” Fox asked.

“Shut up,” Wolf growled and then, in frustration, confessed, “It’s on the tip of my tongue…”

Fox fell silent, watching Wolf. Agitated, Wolf’s teeth bared in a noiseless snarl, his clawed hands combing through his unkempt white fringe. His next exhale was powerful, billowing from his nostrils, his chest deflating. 

“Damn it!” Wolf yelled, so loud that his voice echoed off of the cell walls. “Damn it all!”

“W-Wolf!” Fox began, the chain pulled tight as his cellmate’s fist careened into the nearby wall. The sound was loud and he didn’t doubt that Wolf’s hand was aching from the blow. But if it did, Wolf didn’t show it.

“Shut up! I almost had it!” Wolf whirled around to face Fox, his fur standing on end. “You just _had_ to talk. You _had_ to break my concentration.”

“I didn’t mean—” Fox’s ears went back but then he remembered himself. He remembered who he was dealing with. Pirate lord Wolf O’Donnell. Wanted criminal and one of Andross’s old right hands. And very possibly the person who murdered his father. 

“Are you really going to throw a tantrum right now?” Fox seethed, rising up from the cell’s floor. “Whatever this Mr. B wants with us, I doubt it ends good. We’re probably gonna die if this ship makes it to… to wherever this _Providence_ is. So… get your head on straight.”

Wolf’s eye narrowed.

“You want a plan, McCloud? Fine,” Wolf pointed at the door. “When they come in next time, we’re gonna trip ‘em with the chain and then we’re gonna take their guns and run.”

“T-that’s your plan!? To attack?” Fox asked, taken aback.

“Look around you. It should be pretty damn obvious we’re not even in a cell. We’re in an old cargo room they put a padlock on. I checked every wall for weaknesses before you woke up. This place is solid. Why is it solid? Because this used to be a transport vessel, not a pirate ship. If a transport vessel gets attacked, they can’t afford their cargo to fly out… pirate ships? They’re never built this sturdy. Usually they’re old junk ships someone managed to get airborne,” Wolf pointed at the ceiling. “No cameras. No basic cell commodities. No slot to shove food through—they gotta open the door. That’s why they’re so antsy when they come in. But we’ve been good twice now, they’ll start to lower their guard. Remember, last time, they sent three guys. This time? Only two. I know you’re a twerp at best but I know you can hold your own in a fight. We couldn’t take on three, but we can take on two.”

“Even if they have blasters?” Fox asked fearfully and Wolf nodded sharply.

“Our only other bet is to wait for them to move us to another spot in the ship and I don’t think that’ll happen,” Wolf shook his head. “It’ll require skill and luck. But I don’t think they’ll try to kill us if we attack.”

“R-really?” Fox asked.

“Did you see the way they talked about their captain?” Wolf asked. “Sounds like she’d skin them alive—” He paused for a moment, brow furrowing.

“What is it?” Fox asked.

“Nothing,” Wolf shook his head. “Point is, someone wants us alive so they won’t want us to die. That’s… why they used the Viper on us.”

“You’re assuming they’ll be thinking clearly enough to know not to shoot us,” Fox began.

“I think you’re not giving our pirate pals enough credit,” Wolf retorted with a wry smirk. “Well, if we get shot then we get shot. You’ll just need to follow my lead. You can stomach that, can’t you pup?”

Fox bristled, ears back.

“I can’t wait until we’re outta here,” the vulpine grumbled. “Fine, we’ll do this your way.”

Wolf smiled, flashing his fangs at Fox. 

“Don’t worry, pup, you’ll thank me later for this.”

Somehow, Fox doubted that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this far! I did want to say I've gotten a fair bit of DMs from both people on AO3 and FF.net asking me questions that I'd love to answer but feel I can't without spoiling the story. So I do apologize for that. All I can say is... please keep reading, haha. This a story where a lot of things are gradually going to unfold and everything is going to click at some point. 
> 
> I didn't post this in the notes before but I did want to add that this story will have a few references to Star Fox 2 and the Benimaru Itoh Star Fox comics from the 90s. If you aren't familiar with those then that's fine, but it might give you an extra bit of appreciation for some things that happen later on. 
> 
> Also I promise next chapter will be less banter and more things happening. I just... had to set the stage for a few things in this chapter. :x Also I love Snap and Gutter... but not as much as I love writing Pigma.


	5. Dual Gambits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wolf and Fox gamble on trying to break out of their cell. Star Fox and Star Wolf gamble on attacking the Anarchy as it silently sails through Sector Omega. Another mystery is added...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay! There's gonna be some explanation for that in the end notes. Please enjoy this overdue chapter~

**The Great Fox’s Hanger, the Great Fox, near Sector Omega --**

It did not take long to get the Arwings and Wolfens readied for what Leon would assume would be the fight of their lives. Seeing both sets of starfighters lined on either sides of the Great Fox’s hanger was a sight to behold, one that the Venomian took in silently. It made his scales prickle with mixed feelings.

If someone had told him three years ago that he would be flying wing-to-wing with the Star Fox team, he would have sheathed a blade into their throat. Leon had never been the type to hold grudges, especially when it came to professional work. Yet there was something distasteful about seeing the Arwings next to his Wolfen. It felt like a betrayal of an oath he had made long ago, sworn to a long-dead emperor and filled with an optimism the cynical lizard no longer had.

When he looked at the Arwings, it was hard not to think of Venom and the final days of the war. The Cornerians had pushed the Venomians back to their toxic homeland. A legion of enemy frigates and carriers had sat on their doorstep, lurking like sharks in cold, midnight waters. Waiting to strike and redden the water. The Venomians had always known a battle against the might of Corneria was an impossible task. But they had tried it anyways. They had believed they could defy all odds. Their grand leader had told them so and in their eyes, he could have moved the heavens if he had wanted to. 

They had been so naïve. 

Leon remembered the moment he realized Venom was going to lose. Star Wolf was to guard the entrance to Andross’s secret base. All they could do as the Cornerians pressed into Venomian airspace was watch. The enemy battleships cut through the hazy twilight like great white sharks through the deep indigo ocean. He watched the imminent onslaught draw closer with a deep despair he did not know his heart capable of feeling.  
When the main Cornerian forces diverted to the decoy base Andross had set up, Leon had felt a small wave of relief. And then, cutting through the blood-red sunset, four Arwings had appeared—completely unconvinced of Andross’ ploy. The rest was history. Their Wolfens had failed. As the Cornerians continued their approach, Wolf ordered their team to retreat.

Part of Leon knew that following Wolf off of Venom had been the only way to survive. The Cornerians would comb the forests around Andross’s base for any survivors. They would rain bombs upon the Venomians and not everyone fleeing could withstand the poisonous planet’s air, much less survive the cruel wilds. And so when Wolf ordered their retreat, Leon had left, never looking back.

His town had likely been a victim to bombing. He knew his sister had been at the decoy base and likely lay a skeletal corpse among the rubble, guiding the Venomian forces until the bitter end. His father? Leon could not say. His dad had not bought into Andross’s propaganda as much as his own children. Maybe he had managed to flee before the Cornerians had arrived.

A good son would have turned around to find out the fate of his family but Leon was not a good son.

The war had ended and the people who were dead were just that—dead. Even silver-tongued Andross, who had promised them the world only to deliver them the living hell of war. The people who lived had to find their way through the ashes…or follow those who knew how. That was where Wolf had come in. Now that he was gone…It just felt like they were struggling to keep their heads above water. 

The touch of Pigma’s hand nearly sent the Venomian flying out of his own scales. Leon jolted, head swiveling and carnelian eyes glaring right at his wingmate. The clamor of footsteps from behind told him the others were coming and were likely ready to go. His next breath was a tad exasperated, burdened by the severity of their mission. He nestled into his jacket, looking to his Wolfen as emotion dipped from his face. 

“It’s go time,” the hog said with a cheeky grin. 

“I’ll take point,” Falco announced, having done a final round of inspections himself. Evidently, Pigma’s inspections had not been good enough to him.

“Oh-ho!” Pigma cackled, looking at Falco with a widening smirk. “Aren’t we a tough guy!”

“I just wanna make sure we get the job done,” Falco replied icily.

It was clear he was posturing. And Leon knew if he was posturing, he felt insecure. But why could that be? The lizard watched him pass by, stoic and unblinking. Falco did not even acknowledge him, instead glaring ahead at his Arwing. Pigma snickered after him.

Leon made his way to his Wolfen, sliding into the cockpit seat. The cold of the cushion greeted his back. When he turned on the ship, an array of lights burst to life upon his dashboard and he made sure to open communications so the Star Fox team could contact him. It still felt dirty opening comms to not throw insults at them, but Leon swallowed that down too.

Once everyone was seated and ready to depart, Falco took charge.

“Remember, our target is the teleportation projector on the ship’s front. We already know they have fighters ready to scramble at a moment’s notice. Star Wolf, your job is to make sure we got a clear shot. Got it?” Falco asked.

“Heh sounds like you’re givin’ yourself the harder job,” Pigma commented.

“It is true. The teleporter is directly between the main cannons. You’ll be flying under heavy fire regardless,” Andrew remarked.

“That’s why we need a clear shot,” Peppy said. “The more baddies you take out, the less we gotta worry about!”

“Hmph. Once the teleporter is down, then what?” Leon asked.

“The barrier covering the hanger has a weak spot. It’s to either sides of the hanger door. Disable them both within a few seconds of each other and we can fly in, no problem,” Falco replied.

“Yeah, that’s how we got in last time! Just make sure they’re both disabled quick or the emergency doors will close,” Slippy chimed in. “Sure, they won’t be able to get any fighters out for a while but it’ll be a real pain for us too!”

“Seems simple enough,” Leon nodded curtly. “Do your Arwings have cloaking?”

“No. We’ll bait the fighters out back,” Falco said. “Hit ‘em when they start to follow us. They won’t see ya coming.”

The Venomian’s lip curled. Taking orders from anyone other than Wolf still felt gross but at least the avian talked sense. _Sometimes_.

“Will do.”

Did Leon dare to hope? Their plan seemed somewhat solid and that was more than what he could have asked for hours ago.

He thought about mentioning the bit about the side hull passages but he opted to keep that tidbit to himself. Just a slight hand over Star Fox made him feel comfier—besides, it was not like it would be hard information to relay mid-fight. Part of him knew they were serious about getting Fox back. But part of him feared just like Andrew feared. General Pepper was only one call away, even if Corneria was on the other side of the Lylat System. The Cornerian Defense Force would be quick to mobilize if it meant arresting some of Andross’s top supporters.

Not to mention the _alleged_ murderers of James McCloud.

“Just make sure you actually take down the teleporter,” Andrew sighed. “‘Cause if you’re too slow and they jump, Wolf and Fox are toast. We lose our only shot.”

“We’ll make sure!” Slippy said with jovial determination.

This was a gambit they could not afford to lose.

Falco’s picture came back onto their communication channel. His sapphire eyes gleamed dangerously, filled with a steely resolve. Leon wondered if the avian’s pride still stung from embarrassment. He hoped it did.

“Looks like it’s scramble time,” Falco said, then drew in a deep breath. “All right, boys. Let’s rock and roll.”

It should’ve been said with more enthusiasm. Instead, it sounded bitter.

They left the Great Fox in single-file. Falco took the mantle of leader, something Leon willingly gave over if only to appease the avian’s bruised pride. Peppy and Pigma followed, then Slippy, then Andrew, then Leon at the rear. He liked to keep a decent vantage over the others—just in case one of them thought about double-crossing them. One never could be too careful.

Leon’s Wolfen slipped from the blaring artificial lights of the hangar and into open, dark space. The stars danced around them, sparse amid the sea of pitch black. The edge of the Lylat System was a bleak place, where the gaps between the stars felt bigger, like they could swallow one whole. But Leon had gotten accustomed to the uncanny fringe territories of Lylat. This was where General Pepper didn’t dare venture, so this was where criminal activity hit its peak.

While they had debated their course of action with the Great Fox’s bridge, the _Anarchy_ had drifted into a ship graveyard, illuminated by pale starlight and the glow of the Omega nebula. The old battlefield was a remnant from the Lylat Wars, consisting of old carrier and frigate corpses from both Venom and Corneria. Leon supposed that Corneria had opted to leave the debris untouched as it was too far out of the way to justify hiring cleaners. It seemed like a shame but such was war. There was no telling if any bodies still lingered in the cold of those broken hulls, but if Leon were to guess, he would assume there were.

The six ships entered the graveyard in tense silence as the Great Fox loitered just at the outskirts. They bobbed and weaved through the rubble. Tension burned through the open comms. No one uttered a word. 

The _Anarchy_ drew closer and closer as they danced through the ruined ships. Leon anticipated the pirate vessel to scramble their fighters shortly but if the _Anarchy_ noticed them, it did not show it. It just drifted harmlessly and the lizard felt trepidation build in his chest. Leon checked to make sure his cloaking was activated, eyes eagerly dancing from his dashboard to his front windshield. As Star Fox pressed ahead to bait the fighters, Pigma and Andrew took up Leon’s left and right. They slowed to give the other trio some space to bait their foes out. After the Arwings had gone ahead some ways, Leon led Andrew and Pigma to the right, cutting a wide berth from the _Anarchy_ ’s back. Hopefully any scouts would not notice them darting between bits of wreckage.

“It’s awfully quiet,” Peppy remarked over the comms as they grew closer. “I don’t like this.”

“What’s not to like? Better than ‘em sending a bunch o’ squadrons at us,” Pigma snorted.

“I kinda agree with Peppy,” Slippy said uncertainly. “This seems kinda—”

“Watch out!” Andrew yelped so loud and so suddenly that Leon’s hands tensed around his Wolfen’s joystick.

A pale cyan light burst from the _Anarchy_. It built suddenly, flashing like a camera once before a crisp and sudden beam erupted out. Something about the way it blazed through the darkness made it feel tangible to Leon, who sat borderline petrified in his cockpit. There was a wordless thrum of power that emanated from it. It felt like a penetrating fear—rigid, undeniable, and somehow unbelievable. His sunset eyes watched the beam as it streaked downwards towards the trio of Arwings. For a pessimistic second, the lizard feared it would hit them but the shot was just shy of them. They scattered like insects regardless, diving to the left and right to avoid the beam. The brightness of it was like a star but it burned out fast, like a candle in the wind. 

“What the hell was that!?” Falco demanded.

“I don’t…. I don’t know,” Andrew said. “Some sort of energy beam. I don't... I don't remember THAT in the schematics...!"

“It came from there! Near the bridge,” Pigma pointed out. "There's a cannon up there!"

“ _Shit_ ,” Falco swore. “That’s gonna make this real difficult.”

“Star Wolf,” Leon said, a faint hiss about his voice. Movement near the sides of the hull made him keenly aware that the pirate ship was mobilizing their fighters. “Keep that cannon off of Star Fox. Go!”

“Be careful!” Andrew added as all three of them boosted forward. “I really don’t like the look of this thing.”

The first wave of fighters pulled out of the _Anarchy’s_ hanger, flanked by the emergency crew docked at the ship’s sides. Heart barely contained in his chest, Leon focused his gaze directly ahead. His sharpened teeth nibbled into the scaled flesh of his own mouth, nails clipping into his joystick. As his finger skirted over the trigger to the Wolfen’s cannons, he told himself that this fight could only have two outcomes—one in which Wolf was returned to them safely or one in which they all perished. Leon would accept no other resolution.

He switched his comms to Andrew only. The lad was bright and he had come far in his piloting skills over the years. Leon hesitated to say he trusted anyone other than their leader… but Andrew was a close second; an honor earned over the last few years.

“Remember,” the lizard said to the simian. “If this fails, I need you to get me an opening.”

“Right,” Andrew replied uncertainly. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, Leon? What happens if we lose you too?”

“I’m not leaving without Wolf,” Leon answered firmly. “I’m getting on that ship. One way or another.”

* * *

**The _Anarchy_ , near Sector Omega ship graveyard -- **

Of all the plans Wolf O’Donnell had come up with in his life, he was pretty sure this one was the worst. Fox’s prying glares as he went over how they were going to get out of their makeshift cell didn’t do anything to boost his confidence, but after checking the cell walls and even the door one more time, Wolf was convinced they were just going to have to take a chance. It beat just sitting idly by until they ended up at wherever this Providence place was (where, Wolf assumed, they would likely meet an unfortunate fate).

Ugh, _Providence_. Why did that sound so familiar? Was that the name of a ship? The name of a planet? Wolf couldn’t remember and it burned through him that his memory felt so useless. 

Maybe it was his stomach growling, but the canine swore he felt the ship underneath them rock slightly. A millisecond passed and he concluded that _had_ to be the case. He would have been content to leave it at that but then Fox decided to mention it.

“Did you hear that?” Fox asked.

“No,” Wolf said automatically.

“It sounded like something…” the vulpine’s voice trailed off.

“Cool,” Wolf retorted, stifling rising to his feet and stretching. Some vertebrae in his back snapped loudly, the feeling pleasurably painful. He sighed out blissfully, then tossed brusquely at his cellmate. “Once we’re out, we make a break for the hanger.”

“How’re we gonna fly with this thing?” Fox asked, gesturing to the chain. The vulpine had a fair point but Wolf was not about to tell him that.

“We can both fit into my Wolfen,” Wolf replied dismissively, focusing his eye on the door.

“And leave my Arwing!?” Fox exclaimed, his temper rising. The sound of his anger was like a sweet melody; it almost made up for all the times he had trashed Wolf’s ship during the Lylat Wars.

“Yeah,” Wolf retorted cockily, his nose twitching and a smirk creeping onto his muzzle. “I’m sure the pirates’ll love picking it apart.”

There was no reason to spit out that last bit but Wolf did it anyways. Just for the visceral reaction. Just to see that kit _squirm_ at the thought of his prized toy getting plucked for its parts. Fox bristled and Wolf cherished it smugly. 

“Do you even know where the hanger is?” Fox asked. “What if our ships aren’t even there!”

“Then we take one of theirs,” Wolf said simply, glancing down at the whelp. Fox’s emerald eyes burned up at him, a defiant scowl across his muzzle. That look made the back of Wolf’s throat itch for a cigarette. Whoever the hell had paid them for this trip hadn’t paid him enough to deal with this shit. The gray-furred merc crossed his arms over his chest, not looking from Fox. “You got a problem with stealin’?”

“Not in this case,” Fox retorted but there was a pungent venom in his tone.

“Good,” Wolf replied.

A small lull crossed their conversation but Fox broke it before it became too awkwardly long.

“Remember anything new?” the vulpine asked moodily.

“Nope,” Wolf said at once—because that was the truth. Whatever had happened to them danced about his mind but was still somehow elusive. It was enough to drive a man mad. “Maybe we will when we’re outta here. Just remember to follow my lead, pup. I’ll do the talking… and most of the bullshitting.”

“I suppose you’re good at that,” Fox said. “Bullshitting.”

Wolf snorted. “Gotta be to stay alive this long.”

“Or just really lucky,” Fox shot back. He looked like he wanted to say a few more things but he diverted the conversation. “You sure this is a good idea? We’re both still injured.”

“I’m startin’ to feel better,” Wolf replied stoically.

“Hope that isn’t wishful thinking, Wolf. If we get into a scrap with these guys and these wounds flare up--” Fox began.

“Worry about your own tail, pup.”

“Hard to when it’s currently chained to _yours_.”

He had a point but that was the least of the canine’s worries. Wolf’s ear swiveled towards the door. Faint footsteps were coming down the hall—two sets, if he was hearing right. A smirk wound its way across his face as he looked to Fox. It was time to see how well the vulpine could improvise. 

“They’re comin’. Y’know the drill, Fox,” Wolf said to the vulpine, who obliged reluctantly.

Fox made his way to the corner of the cell, pulling the chain tight. He laid down on his side, torso curled slightly with his back towards the door. Wolf paused for a few long seconds then cleared his throat. Fox shot him a glare. Wolf cleared his throat again. Fox scowled and laid his head back down, giving a melodramatic, agonized moan as soon as he was settled in. Wolf wanted to smile but something about the sight of Fox laying in the cell made the smirk drop from his muzzle. There was something familiar about it, and it took Wolf a second to realize that from that particular angle, Fox looked a little _too_ much like James McCloud. But that memory was one Wolf kept locked behind a vault door. If he dared to open it up, he feared the rage that would spill out.

Instead, he focused on his task, knocking hastily against the door. 

“Help! We need help in here!” Wolf yelled, fists drumming against the metal. The footsteps hurried a bit faster. “Somethin’s wrong! Help!”

The light through the opening in the door was soon concealed by whoever was on the other side. Wolf tried to peek to get a good look but all he saw was a wild yellow eye. A series of blood vessels branched out across the sclera like convoluted spider webs. 

“Oi! Wot you hollerin’ about!?” a voice snarled from the other side. Wolf recognized it as the coyote from before.

“Somethin’s wrong with the fox,” Wolf said, forcing urgency in his tone. “I think he’s dyin’.”

“Wot ya do to ‘im, shank ‘im? Aw screw it. Back up, back up, an’ we’ll take a look, eh?” Snap growled at him.

Wolf shuffled back a few steps and he heard them unlock the door. As it began to open, Wolf felt the fur along the ridge of his neck rise with anticipation. He tried to calm himself but it was a hard struggle. There was something thrilling about the moments before a fight. It fed into a primal nature that rested deep in the corners of his blood. He couldn’t wait to crack a few pirate skulls—especially after all the grief they had caused him.

Reining in his building adrenaline, Wolf side-stepped to let both Snap and his cohort inside. The iguana was missing this time, as was the tiger. Instead, a shivering white bunny walked in front of Snap, his lop-ears hanging balefully on either sides of his face. He had a food tray grasped in his shaking hands, his beady eyes focused ahead. 

Snap went to investigate Fox almost immediately, leaning over him with a scowl across his crooked snout. The bunny stopped to lower the tray of food but his dark eyes flitted to Wolf for a moment. Realization swept over the canine like a tidal wave, drenching his confidence in cold sweat. The lop-eared bunny quickly looked away but for a painstakingly long moment, Wolf felt himself thrown back into a feverish nightmare—a single sentence playing over his mind.

_I know you._

And judging from the way the bunny could not meet his eye, Wolf would have wagered the bunny recognized him too.

But now wasn’t the time for that. Wolf forced his head to look towards where Snap was knelt down next to Fox, who was doing a good enough job at stalling while Wolf swallowed down a tempest of recognition and fear. Snap was distracted and Wolf was keenly aware of the fact that the bunny was keeping tabs on him. Very sharp, very close tabs. But Wolf saw the way his hands shook. He was no fighter. The worst he could do was scream, and Wolf would make sure that didn’t happen.

“Oi, wot ya moanin’ about, whelp?” Snap growled at Fox. “Ya eat some bad shit or summat?”

Wolf turned on the bunny, bloodlust in his single violet eye. The frail lapin must have known his fate then. His hands went up to his agape mouth in fear. No scream came out. Wolf almost expected the putrid scent of piss to reach his nose. 

“My… my _everything_ …” Fox moaned, encapsulating perfectly the talent of an actor in a B movie.

“Yer wot?” Snap asked.

He shuffled back a step. It was not far enough and it certainly was not fast enough. Wolf reached back and clobbered the bunny in the face with a fist. It was a direct hit to his shivering nose, enough to render the poor sod senseless, and loud enough to warrant Snap turning around. 

“Wot’re ya—” the coyote began and that was when Fox McCloud struck.

The vulpine rolled over and grabbed the coyote’s tail, yanking him towards the ground. Snap yelped as Fox reached around his neck, strangling him with the crook of his elbow. Wolf took two paces towards the grappling duo and planted a kick directly into Snap’s face. His burn wound from before stung in memory but it was bearable—just enough to make Wolf’s breath hitch and the corner of his eye to water. He had enough adrenaline coursing through his veins to fight off the pain.  
  
Blood spurted from Snap’s nose after the first hit. The second strike was enough to knock him out. Fox winced as he let the coyote’s limp body fall, a hand gingerly touching his chest. 

“Shit,” the vulpine breathed, ears back.

“Oh for the love of… _get up_!” Wolf said to him, reaching with a hand to hoist him upright. Fox stiffly rose to his feet, a series of swears uttered under his breath.

He grabbed the blaster off of Snap’s belt and cast one last look at the white-furred bunny. Unease still rocked in his chest like a sea under the oppression of a storm. That innocent face reminded him of memories he would have rather forgotten—the darkness of Eladard’s sewers. A decrepit mansion. A haunting piano melody near a dying hearth. That fight on the rooftop. He cut himself off from the rest of those memories. That had been a victory but he could never find it in himself to truly cherish it. There was still too much fear there. As if on cue, the scarred flesh under his eyepatch tingled.

Nevertheless, Wolf stared at the bunny for some time, as if a puzzle piece sat in front of him but he didn’t have enough context to place it.

_You’re that servant kid from Archie’s mansion. How the hell did **you** make it here?_

He wished he could ask the lapin but the poor lad was unmoving and time was against them. 

“What is it?” Fox asked.

“Nothing,” Wolf said abruptly and the two hurriedly made their way out of the cell. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've mentioned this a bit briefly on places like tumblr but due to a few different reasons, I decided to completely revise sections of this story. Purely on the planning end-- nothing I've written so far is changing, I just felt like the overall story was lacking an element that really made it feel satisfying. The overall premise is the same, I just needed to tweak some stuff that will happen later on down the road. I want to make sure I deliver a great tale for you all to read. I've also been a lot tougher on edits, which I hope will start to make my writing better overall.
> 
> So with that being said... this chapter saw a LOT of different versions. Balancing how much I unveil and how much I don't has been a challenge! I think a lot has come out with this chapter that may have people speculating. I just hope it's not too rushed or too dragged out. ^^;; 
> 
> But as always, thank you for reading and bearing with me during hiatuses and when my writer's muse gets hyper-focused on other things. I appreciate all of the support.


	6. A Bitter Resolve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freed from their cell, the captive Wolf and Fox make their way through the Anarchy in a desperate attempt to escape the dreadnought before arriving at the enigmatic place known as Providence. Meanwhile, Falco leads an attack against the space pirates, reflecting on how Fox was captured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter filled with banter and some small revelations. Hope you enjoy!

**A Random Corridor, The _Anarchy_ , near Sector Omega ship graveyard – **

The lights in the corridor blinded him on the way out. As he stumbled, he threw up a hand to shield his eyes. His muzzle collided into Wolf’s back and the gray-furred canine looked back at him with a growl. They proceeded to where the corridor ended in a perpendicular hall. Wolf, keeping his back close to the wall, began to survey the next area with the “borrowed” gun held at the ready. Fox lingered behind him, heartbeat loudly pulsing in his ears. 

He wished he could say he was only concerned about the crew of space pirates they were presently trapped in. Snap had only carried one blaster and Wolf had grabbed it first. Wolf, who had thrown in his lot with Andross and a rebellion that had seen countless tragedies come to life. Multiple planets had been devastated by their handiwork. There was blood on Wolf’s hands—more than Fox thought able to be cleaned off. If the rumors were true, Wolf had possibly killed his father out of spite and at the bequest of Andross.

And now Fox was at his mercy. He was weaponless, chained to his rival who had a vendetta and a gun, and all Fox could do was follow. Sure, they had been willing to work with each other to get out of the cell. And maybe that alliance would extend to when they were able to get to their ships. But Fox told himself he could not count on it. It was likely his survival was more convenient than his death. As soon as that changed, he braced himself to be ready. Wolf was a ruthless murderer and his body count was too big to count at this point.

“Clear,” Wolf grunted to Fox and the two proceeded into the next hallway, Fox struggling to keep up with Wolf’s longer strides. He gathered part of the chain into his hands, making sure it did not scrape against the floor and alert anyone nearby.

The adjacent hallway was clear and gave a bigger picture as to what they were dealing with. As they ran, Fox took in his surroundings, noting the way the lights were positioned on the ceiling, the crooked pipes that ran along some of the wall panels, which had been clearly damaged by some sort of firefight. The tiles comprising of the ceiling seemed new, painted a sterile white. It painted an odd picture—a ship that seemed to have undergone half of a facelift, at least on the inside. He wondered if all pirate ships were like this, a strange fusion of old and new. But he did not have time to dwell on it for long. 

They made it to the end of the corridor and the vulpine knew it was time to have at least half of a plan formed.

Fox tossed a wary glance at Wolf. “Do you remember which way the hanger is?"  
  
“Nope,” Wolf replied casually. “You?”

“No,” Fox answered, bits of frustration leaking out in his voice.

“Well, we kick down every door ‘til we get there,” Wolf said.

“That’s gonna take forever!” Fox sputtered. “Look, there’s gotta be a better way. Can’t you remember anything about how you got here!?”

Wolf’s ears went back as he rounded on Fox. “No. I can’t. Can _you_?”

“I…” Fox began, fumbling for a moment. 

The obvious answer was no. Fox was still struggling to remember anything at all. There were blurred images, flashing through his mind’s eye like a powerpoint presentation at lightspeed. But he could not make any sense of them. Stars danced around the theater of his mind. And the flashing lights of lasers. But everything was muddled. Too muddled to make any sense of.

He tried to anchor his thoughts. Remember the last thing in the sequence of his life before he had woken up. The image formed into a normal morning on the Great Fox. Breakfast with the boys. Peppy had made a cup of coffee, making the lounge smell nice. Falco, armed with a skillet, had flipped a pancake over his head and it had landed on ROB’s head. Slippy was saying something… they were closing in on… a target? Fox’s brows furrowed in concentration.

“Ugh. We don’t have time for this, McCloud,” Wolf scowled at him, tugging on the chain. “Let’s get a move on.”

“We were… we were coming after this ship…” Fox began, rooted to the spot despite Wolf’s insistence.

“No shit,” Wolf retorted.

“I don’t remember anything after that,” Fox sighed. “Fine. We do it your way until we remember.”

“Good pup,” Wolf flashed him a not-so-nice fanged smile and they carried on.

The hallway they were in linked to a larger one. Fox kept his position by Wolf, telling himself inwardly that it was easier to keep an eye on him this way. Wolf checked the hallway, glancing down it carefully then backing up. He shoved Fox slightly as he did so, shaking his head with a growl on his breath.

“Crowded,” was all he said.

“You don’t think you can take all of ‘em?” Fox asked, not caring to not sound aggressive.

“I don’t have a death wish,” Wolf scowled.

“Why don’t you hand _me_ the blaster? Maybe I can do it?” Fox asked.

“I don’t think so,” Wolf retorted then asked with a smug smirk. “Does it bug ya? That I got a gun and you don’t?”

Fox’s ears went back.

“No.”

“You’re bad at lying, McCloud.”

“I just don’t get why you’re holding it if you’re not gonna use it.”

“I didn’t say that. I just don’t wanna get into a gunfight where it’s fifteen to one.”

“Did that look like the right way?”

“Who knows. This place feels like a damn maze.”

The duo backtracked until they found a different branch of hallways. These were similarly devoid of any pirates—much to Fox’s relief. Wolf continued to spearhead their venture throughout the _Anarchy_ , with Fox doing little to help but make sure their chain did not drag the ground. He mused to himself how it felt odd that the ship seemed so empty. It was as though most of the pirates were away someplace else. Gathered together for lunch, maybe? He doubted it. If this group was half as smart as they seemed, they would know to take turns eating while the others worked the ship. Something sinister felt afoot but Fox could not say what it was.

And then, as if the fates were conspiring to toy even more with Fox McCloud’s emotions, a blaring, shrill tone began pulsing throughout the corridor. The lights overhead turned crimson with warning. Fox and Wolf exchanged glances. A crackling noise emitted from a nearby intercom. Suddenly, the room echoed with the sound of someone barking out orders.

“ALL HANDS TO THEIR STATIONS. THE _ANARCHY_ IS UNDER ATTACK. I REPEAT: THE _ANARCHY_ IS UNDER ATTACK!”

“Ha!” Wolf laughed, fangs bared slightly. “I bet that’s my boys on their way to pick me up.”

Fox wanted to point out that it could’ve just as easily been Star Fox but he figured now was not the time for that. They needed cover just in case these hallways were about to erupt with pirate activity. The duo took shelter in a small storage room, with Fox stumbling back into the shelves to give enough space for Wolf. One of the vulpine’s feet landed in a bucket as Wolf pushed him back to give himself more space, shutting the door behind him.

“Thanks,” Fox said sourly to his rival, pulling his foot out of the bucket with a scowl.

“Cramped as hell in here,” Wolf grunted, his voice so low that it was almost lost in the rushing sounds of footsteps outside.

When the hallway went quiet, Wolf held up the chain between his and Fox’s wrists. In his other hand, he held the blaster, sticking its barrel to the chain. Fox’s ears went up in alarm.

“What are you doing?” the vulpine asked sharply.

“Thinkin’ about somethin’,” came the reply.

“You’re not seriously gonna shoot—”

“I said I was _thinkin’,_ pup!”

Fox opened his mouth to protest but the next few seconds became a blur. The room around them shook as though it were suddenly taken by an earthquake. A few containers on the shelves fell, clobbering Fox on the head. He winced, gave a small “ow!” and threw up his hands to shield himself from any more falling objects. A loud boom echoed from outside but somewhere beyond the immediate hallway. It was as if the ship itself roared.

When everything settled, he shot Wolf a terrified look.

“The hell was that?” Wolf growled. 

Fox wished he had an answer but he didn’t. Instead, he rubbed where he had been hit on the head, his emerald eyes flickering over to the door. Squeezing around Wolf, he cracked it open, peering out into the now empty hall.

“I don’t know,” Fox said to him. “But I really don’t like it.”

As the coast was clear, they cautiously resumed their endeavor to find their ships. Their wandering led them to a corridor with only a large set of double doors at the end. Each was equipped with a small window. Fox was hesitant to approach but Wolf prowled ahead, blaster in hand and grip tight around its handle. Wolf made it to the doors first, glancing inside. Fox soon followed, peeking discreetly within.

The following room was large, with a high ceiling and crates upon crates of cargo. The crates were generic, made of black metal with an insignia that Fox could not make out from the distance. If he were to guess, they were weapons, likely pilfered from a Macbethian factory. But the amount of crates were what troubled him. It seemed like there were enough to outfit a small army. If he had seen such a sight during the Lylat Wars, he would have assumed the arms were going to Andross. But during this quiet time of peace, Fox could scarcely think of who would need these weapons and for what purpose.

From what Fox could see, a handful of pirates were organizing the crates. The broad-shouldered tiger from before was in there, standing in the middle of his subordinates, who toiled under his oppressive glare. He was very evidently barking orders, gesturing to the crates with a mean scowl across his features. Once glance at his muscles and the hefty blaster at his side and Fox felt his confidence wither. There were at least seven pirates total, including the tiger. More than he was wanting to gamble against.

“The cargo room,” Wolf wrinkled his snout. “Not where I’d wanna be in a place like this. But the hanger’s gotta be nearby.”

“Why d’you think that?” Fox asked.

“Those double doors are where they load the bigger stuff through,” Wolf replied brusquely, gesturing to the far end of the room, where a large set of doors sat and no doubt led to the outside. To empty space. “But ships like this will have multiple ways to load goods, especially if the pirates are using their own ships for transport. There’ll be an elevator connectin’ to the hanger.”

A few seconds later and Wolf spied it.

“There. At the front of the room,” he said, gesturing with a claw towards where it sat near the tiger.

“And in plain sight,” Fox lamented.

“We’ve gotta get to it,” Wolf growled.

“You wanna walk in?” Fox asked, aghast. “They’ll shoot us on sight.”

“Well,” Wolf huffed. “Maybe I oughta hand you the blaster then, since you think you’re such a hotshot.”

“Okay, I’m being serious this time. Is there another way to the hanger?” Fox asked.

“I didn’t exactly see a roadmap in the hallways, McCloud,” Wolf shook his head. “Look. There’s a stack of crates near the door there. If we’re quick, we can dodge behind them before they see us.”

“What about a vent?” Fox asked. “We can try to get behind the crates that way.”

Wolf looked like he was going to protest at once but he turned and began looking around the hallway. Fox led them back a few yards, scanning the walls for a vent. The first candidate they found was large enough so that the vulpine figured they would both fit. Unfortunately, the grate covering it seemed securely bolted into the wall. He grabbed onto it and tugged to no avail, gritting his teeth in frustration. Being out in the open in this hallway was unnerving. He felt too exposed.

“Here,” Wolf said in annoyance, grabbing Fox by the shoulder and shoving him aside. He pointed the blaster at it and fired twice at the bolts. Under the heat of the laserfire, they melted and the grizzled canine promptly yanked the grate away. It slammed into the ground loudly and Fox cringed.

“Be careful!” hissed Fox.

“Get in,” Wolf barked at him. “I’ll be right behind you.”

Fox did not like the sound of that but his nerves were alight. Wordlessly, he crawled in, praying to whatever deity was listening that Wolf not shoot him in the back. Or, tail, in this case. He heard the canine follow him before long, and shuffled a bit faster to make sure he had room to fit inside. The chain loosened between them, skirting over the floor and making Fox gnash his teeth in fear.

“All right McCloud,” Wolf said when they had crawled away far enough from where the grate had been. “You’d better get us there.”

“That’s the plan,” Fox retorted sourly.

It was a half-baked plan, Fox realized as they crawled and fumbled about the vents. Knowing that the cargo room was nearby was clearly not sufficient enough information to guide them there in a time-efficient manner. But before long, the room did in fact come into sight and Fox found himself stifling a very heavy sigh of relief as he peered through the grate into the next room. 

A pile of crates sat nearby, obscuring half of his vision. Now that he was closer to the crates, it was easier to see the symbol on it but the bars covered just enough that Fox had a hard time reading the text around it. He decided to focus instead on the other half of what he could see—where the tiger was standing nearly across the room, his back to them as he continued to toss about his angry-sounding orders.

“Make sure you don’t drop any of the Grippite!” the tiger snarled. “Mr. B said it’s all gotta be in proper shape to use. If any of it’s damaged, it’s your hides he’ll want. And the Cap’n will sure as hell give ya to ‘im!”

Grippite… Why did that ring a bell…?

“Are ya gonna just stand there and gawk or do something?” Wolf asked him grumpily from behind.

“There’s a grate in the way,” Fox shot back at him.

“And?” Wolf asked.

“How am I supposed to open it?” Fox asked.

“This is an old freighter that’s been modded to hell. It’s gotta have a button on the wall next to it,” Wolf said. “Used to be old protocol to install an emergency button to make sure the vents were accessible. Had issues with people gettin’ stuck—maintenance guys usually.”

“How do you know this stuff?” Fox asked in surprise.

“I’ve seen my fair share of freighters,” Wolf responded vaguely, voice cold.

Fox scoffed. Yeah. He was certain Wolf had. When he had been busy pillaging them, of course, the disreputable pirate that he was. Nevertheless, Fox heeded his advice and began searching the wall. Though the cargo room was bright, the vents were most certainly not. He felt around the wall until the switch fell under his thumb. It clicked when he pushed it and then he tried removing the grate. It came off easily and he made sure to tenderly set it onto the ground before scurrying out.

Fox ducked behind a cluster of crates, looking back at where the chain fed into the vents, where Wolf was. He tugged it anxiously and Wolf’s head popped out soon enough. The disgruntled canine crept out of the vent, joining him behind the stack of crates with his blaster drawn up and ready for action.

It was nothing short of a miracle that they had not been noticed. Thankfully, it seemed the pirates were so busy with moving shipments of this enigmatic “Grippite” from near the elevator to designated locations in the storage room that they did not notice. The tiger was too keen on supervising to spare any thought to his surroundings. Fox and Wolf kept low behind the stack of crates, with the vulpine’s heartbeat racing in his ears.

“We may have to wait ‘til they’re gone,” Wolf whispered, voice so low it was almost hard to discern what he was saying. “They’re too close to the elevator and I don’t like the look of that tiger.”

“Then we wait,” Fox nodded. “Let’s hope the hanger isn’t too packed with Dreadfang’s men when we get there.” He tossed an inquisitive look to Wolf. “You’re sure it leads to the hanger… right?”

“McCloud, would I lie to you?” Wolf asked.

“Yes,” Fox responded in a heartbeat and the gray-furred merc scowled.

“Look, I’m not interested in getting your hide blasted by these pirates. If anyone’s gonna take you out, it’s me,” Wolf said. “That lift’s gotta lead to the hanger. No way it doesn’t. This is an old modded freighter but I’ve seen its kind before. Probably Macbethian or Eladardian. It’s old but it’s good for what these guys are doing—piratin’ and haulin’ their loot back to their base.”

“Right. Well, I guess you would know all about that,” Fox snorted at him. “I wouldn’t be surprised if these were some of your old buddies.”

Wolf’s fur prickled but strangely enough, the canine did not answer. Instead, he settled down behind the crates, sitting with the blaster still readied in case it was needed. His silence felt odd but Fox chose to believe it was because he had struck a chord. 

The tiger’s voice became background noise and Fox found himself antsy as they waited for the opportune moment to make a break for the elevator. His emerald eyes flitted towards the crates they were hiding behind. When he got to the logo, he felt his heart and stomach both lurch. Emblazoned on the crate was a planet symbol with a kooky looking face etched into its surface. The face was familiar—amphibian with a mustache under the nose. Beneath the symbol were the words “CORNERIA PRECIOUS METALS, LTD”. A name Fox was all too familiar with. 

Corneria Precious Metals, LTD was, of course, the name of the company owned by Slippy’s uncle, Grippy. He was a strange sort—a bit crazy, if Fox were honest. He had thought the man was effectively harmless however. All of Slippy’s family was that way. They had their passion projects but other than that, they were agreeable and peaceable.

But staring at that logo made Fox uneasy. There were thoughts and memories tugging at him. Too vague to put into words. But too clear to be ignored.

Grippite… Grippy? Grippy Toad? What did he have to do with all of this?

“Hey Wolf…” Fox began uncertainly. “Do you know anything about something called Grippite?”

* * *

**Outside the _Anarchy_ , near Sector Omega -- **

Falco Lombardi prided himself in a lot of things. He was an ace pilot—always had been since the day he had first climbed behind the wheel of one of the Flight Academy simulators. Flying had always felt as natural as breathing. And when he had gotten to sit in his own Arwing for the first time, he had been overcome with a feeling of belonging. The metal hull of his starfighter felt as though it were his own flesh, cutting through space at insane speed and yet tempered by his will. 

He was unshakeable in resolve. Nothing made him flustered, not even odds that were highly stacked against him. To him, there was only a goal, one that he knew had to be fulfilled no matter the cost and their gambit against the _Anarchy_ was no different.

The avian’s hands did not shake as he piloted the Arwing. There was great fear in his heart but it stayed there, trapped behind a steely exterior. His sapphire eyes were glazed over as he dove low to dodge an onslaught of enemy fire, vision flitting only to his radar for a split-second to confirm that one of the Star Wolf boys had taken out the wave. Falco continued dipping low to get to the _Anarchy’s_ underbelly. When he had made some distance between himself and the looming vessel, he U-turned and began directly up at the ship’s stomach.

Side cannons blasted beams of light into the darkness, dragging across empty space to try to knock down the attacking mercenary teams. Falco’s fingers gripped his control stick tighter, the sight of the battle sending a rush of adrenaline into his veins. Looking at it all—their ships zipping around the _Anarchy_ like flies around a bull—gave him a distinguished feeling of despair. But he burned that quickly away in anger and boosted towards where Andrew and Slippy had indicated the teleporter would be.

This was his fault, he knew. All of this mess they had gotten into. This mess that could tear them all apart. 

They could lose Fox for it, Falco told himself for the millionth time since it had all happened. Strange, how life could turn on a dime. Everything had been smooth sailing since their group had gotten together. Sure, Slippy had almost become a Goras’s lunch that one time. But except that, they had been through thick and thin with no problems. But everything had changed when they had stormed the _Anarchy_. Their luck had turned bad and Falco could only replay that grim scene over and over in his mind…

* * *

**A few hours earlier, in the _Anarchy_ , Near Sector Omega -- **

_It was supposed to be a regular mission, Falco mused to himself as they ran. Easy money. A quick nab and go. A quick check in the bank account. Something to put towards those new Arwings Fox had commissioned Space Dynamics for. But nothing ever went as planned. Falco scolded himself for thinking otherwise._

_“Did ya see that? They shot Wolf!” Slippy yelled as they sprinted down the battered hall of the Anarchy._

_“Who cares? I hope they shot the rest of ‘em too!” Falco snapped._

_“Less yakkin’ and more runnin’!” Peppy hollered._

_The pirates were gaining on them, their footsteps in a thundering roar in the corridor behind them. Blasters were being shot, hitting the walls. Falco paused to return fire, his mouth drawn into a scowl. What a mess. So much for a simple retrieval mission. These pirates were armed to the teeth and then some. He’d never seen anything like it. Not even during his years on the Hot Rodders, when playing with pirates had been their average Wednesday. But these Anarchy guys? They were a breed of something else._

_Their Arwings were close, from what Falco could tell. The Anarchy’s interior was a maze of hallways but he had a good enough sense to direction to know they had almost made it out. But barely. The crewmates were ganging on them and if they weren’t fast, they’d be shot to pieces._

_“The doors!” Slippy cried out. “They’re gonna shut ‘em on us!”_

_Falco’s eyes swiveled upward, where the emergency doors had been activated just up ahead. It began to close from the top-down, slow but lethal as a guillotine. There was no doubt in his mind if they were trapped with the pirates, then they would die. As much gear as their team had, they had not prepared for such a hard fight._

_“Keep moving!” Fox yelled._

_“There!” the hoarse voice of Captain Dreadfang echoed down the hall behind them. Falco didn’t look back. He knew only death lay there. Her voice rose with wrath and cruelty. “Get ‘em! Don’t let the bastards escape!”_

_Peppy made it through the door first, then Slippy. It was nearly halfway closed and he could hear the blasters starting to fire behind them. Red flashes of lights danced in his peripherals. He kept his eye on the door, telling himself he was going to have to duck to make it through. If he was even fast enough._

_“Falco, watch out!” Fox yelled and the avian turned in time to see the vulpine come flying behind him, shoving him forward as the rest of his vision was enveloped by fiery red light. Light that dispersed into Fox’s back—the last thing Falco saw before the world was turned upside-down._

_The next moment was a blur. He felt Fox shove him again, the sound of his agonized screams tearing through Falco’s eardrums. Something slammed hard into the tile next to Falco’s head. When he got his bearings, he realized he was staring up at the Anarchy’s ceiling, the brimming lights nearly blinding. Peppy had a hold of his shoulders, shaking him with terror etched into his face._

_“Falco! Get yourself together! Falco!”_

_Blinking away his confusion, Falco turned and looked back at where he had come from, only to see solid metal just inches from the tip of his beak. It took him a moment to realize what had happened. And when the reality finally dawned on him, it was a sinking, despairing feeling. One that tore into his heart, one that nearly left him speechless._

_Fox was on the other side. Stuck with the pirates._

_“No… No, we have to go back!” Falco yelled at Peppy as the hare dragged him to his feet._

_“There’ll be a time for that, Falco!” Peppy said._

_“W-what!?” Falco sputtered. “We… we can’t leave him!”_

_“We have to!” Peppy shook his head._

_“You’re crazy, old man!” the avian snarled, turning back to look at the emergency door._

_Peppy grabbed his shoulder “We have to, Falco… If we’re caught here, who’s gonna save Fox?!”_

_It was that thought that made Falco begrudgingly leave Fox behind._

* * *

**Outside the _Anarchy_ , near Sector Omega --**

Falco had been too slow then. He would not be too slow now.

The underbelly was soon close enough that it was within firing range. Trying to tell where the teleporter was attached to the ship was like trying to find a needle in a hay stack. Falco resolved himself to open fire on anything that looked important. With rage flaring in his chest and anger coursing in his bloodstream, the avian unleashed a barrage of lasers just beneath the main cannon. If it did any damage, he could not tell. As soon as he made his pass, a squadron of fighters was on his tail and he boosted to give himself some distance. His Arwing danced around their shots, systems flashing warning signs on his screens that he was being tailed. 

“I don’t get it!” Andrew’s voice cut in on the communications. “A laser with that much energy should be impossible. I don’t even think Corneria has that kind of weapon tech yet! The readings are off the charts! What the hell kind of—”

“Hey banana breath, why don’t you do your job instead of whine about their laser cannon?” Falco snapped as he did a fast turn to try to shake some of his pursuers. He noted a Wolfen slide into place several yards away from his flank, dispatching the enemies swiftly.

“Don’t start molting, Falco,” Leon tutted as he boosted away. “It’s a bad look for you.”

“If you’re looking for a ‘thank you’, you’ll have to look someplace else,” Falco scowled.

“Heh,” Leon smirked. “I don’t need your appreciation. Take out that teleporter and we’ll be even.”

He steered his Arwing around the _Anarchy’s_ hull, rolling away from cannon lasers as they fired out. Despite the hefty numbers of pirates that had spewed from the vessel, Star Wolf seemed to be handling them at least a passable degree. Falco noted Peppy trying to get a few shots in at the teleporter as Andrew neared the cannon that had launched the initial blast—clearly curious. Falco was mildly surprised when it failed to turn and blast the inquisitive ape in the face. 

Another pass was done on the _Anarchy’s_ teleporter with the device’s projector still securely attached by the time it fell out of Falco’s range. He guided his Arwing around for another shot at it.

“Are you guys done yet?” Pigma complained.

“No,” Peppy said shortly.

“You could always help if you’re bored,” Falco pointed out coldly.

“Ehhh no thanks. Cap’n Dreadfang’s got a lot of goons under her paw. I’d hate to let them roast ya,” Pigma cackled.

The hog’s heckling did little to help Falco’s mood but it solidified his resolve. With the next round, he coursed under the ship’s rear. He aimed upwards, blasting where the teleportation device was lodged and then blasting along the large projector that ran from it to the front. It dawned on him to use a bomb but he decided against it. He didn’t want the _Anarchy_ blown to bits. Not with Fox still on board.

“Hm. Energy readings are up again,” Andrew commented as Falco passed beneath the main cannon, zipping near the glass that made up the ship’s bridge. “I’d steer clear of the front if I were you!”

“That projector’s lookin’ pretty banged up,” Slippy added. “I think we almost got it. Just a bit more.”

“Falco, fly in, I’ll cover ya!” Peppy said, bringing his Arwing up next to the avian’s.

“Roger that, Pep,” Falco replied and the two turned wide to do another pass at the projector.

As lasers fired at their tails, they boosted—starlight and Sector Omega’s illuminous glow dancing around their lethal battle. Peppy returned fire at an incoming slew of pirates, Falco accelerating and ducking beneath them as he made for the projector. When it fell into sight of his aiming reticle, he fired—heart ablaze with rage and memory and breath hitched in his throat. Damn it all, he would get Fox back. Even if it was the last thing he did, he would get him back. 

After the pass, he found himself flanked by four of Dreadfang’s men. Falco slammed on the thrusters, the back of his Arwing enduring a shower of angry red lasers. His radar detected Peppy hot on his heels and he carried his Arwing high up, barrel-rolling to try to deflect some of the hits. They chased him as he climbed in height, U-turning as he crested well over the _Anarchy_ and rounded on his pursuers. Peppy was becoming flanked by another squadron—one that Andrew was carefully trying to pick away but to no avail. The hare’s ship engines crackled as a few well-aimed shots hit true. Falco razed Peppy’s opponents but felt a laser rock his Arwing as he flew down passed the _Anarchy_ ’s cannon. Two pirates still tailed him.

“Hang on, Falco!” Peppy yelled.

“Tch, it’s fine, just get ‘em quick!” Falco called back, his Arwing nearing the _Anarchy_ ’s underbelly.

Flickering light to his right caught his attention. His sapphire gaze swiveled towards the _Anarchy_ ’s teleportation projector, marveling at how it crackled with violet-white light. Had his last pass been the end of it? Strange… it sparked with light but not fire. Not what he had expected. The avian rolled his shoulders in a shrug. Oh well. A win was a win. He coursed his ship alongside the projector, firing a few extra times for good measure—getting some of that pent-up rage out of his system as Peppy dealt with the two bogeys on his six.

“We got it, boys,” Falco announced over the communications channel. “They’re sittin’ ducks. Let’s bring Wolf and Fox home.”

“Ha! Nice work!” Slippy exclaimed.

“Heh… Guess it’s time to smoke Dreadfang now,” Pigma remarked.

“Wait a sec…” Andrew cut in. “Energy reading is spiking! I… I think it’s the cannon again! No, wait, it’s the—”

The sparks from the teleportation projector grew into a light that rivaled the brilliance of a star and Falco felt fear seep into every ounce of his being. He tried to steer his ship away but even he could tell it was too late. The gathering light soon became something brighter than he could even look at, forming a beam that cut through space like a knife through melted butter. It burned the left side of his Arwing, its gathered light a fearful dazzle that blinded him in the moments before the rest of reality went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw Fox and Wolf vent. Pretty sus.
> 
> This chapter was a bit difficult to polish up. Originally it was part of the previous chapter which had totally different POVs, so I had to do a LOT of revision and then I forgot who I was supposed to be writing and wrote the wrong POV a bit and had to go back and revise THAT too. A mess. But I'm glad it's finally done. Things are escalating and starting to be revealed which is exciting because there's some big stuff about to happen.
> 
> All of my SF fic focus is going to be put on Star-Crossed for the foreseeable future so updates should come more often now. I have a lot planned in terms of SF fics but I've told myself it's all going to be put on hold until Star-Crossed is complete, with the only exception maybe being a short piece for SF's anniversary and a piece for Valentine's Day. Limiting my SF fics to one I'm dedicated to will put my main projects at 3, which is super bearable atm.
> 
> The next chapter will end this 'phase' of the fic, so to speak, and put us into the next phase. I do imagine this fic will be the longest thus far. Writing chapters with split POV makes things happen slower but it gives additional insight to what's going on and I like that. I've been toying with the idea of doing single POVs per chapter but I'm not convinced that would benefit the pacing at all. If you have any thoughts about that, let me knowwww~


	7. Turbulence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Anarchy approaches the portal.

The ship’s humming alerted Wolf, the noise like a gentle moan that built and grew underfoot. He knelt down, feeling it with an open palm, trying to diagnose the cause. But try as he might, he could not pinpoint it. His sole eye snapped to Fox for a moment, who no doubt felt the building tremor too. The vulpine looked preoccupied, however, with the stack of crates they rested behind, running his hand over the logo as if caressing it enough would give him the answers he sought.

Wolf did not understand it and did not care to. Instead, his chipped ears swiveled in the direction of the pirates.

“The hell’s that mad doc doing now?” snapped the tiger to his subordinates. “More of his damn jewel shit? Ugh. Brace yourselves!”

Mad doc? Damn jewel shit? Wolf’s bushy brows knitted in confusion but there was scarcely any time to mull it over. The groaning reached its height and the crates above them teetered precariously. Fox backed up, ears pulled to the top of his head. Wolf did the same, readying his blaster and feeling the power surge through the ship, causing the metal underneath him to hum. Another thunderous blast outside and he feared what that meant for his team.

“Attention all members o’ the _Anarchy_ ,” came a gravelly voice over the intercom. “This is Captain Dreadfang. The ship’s teleporter functions are active. Prepare to enter Warp Zone.”

Warp Zone… Was this ship using some form of inter-dimensional travel? But that was impossible. Andross had been the only one to create that tech and even then the mad scientist said it was unstable. Perfecting it was something the ape had never achieved before his death and all of the prototypes had burned when his base had erupted into flames. 

So how the hell did these pirates have it now?

_Doesn’t matter,_ a sharper, more sensible part of himself snapped. _We have bigger fish to fry._

“Cain, when you’re done wit’ the cargo, I need you at the bridge,” the Captain gave a pause, giving Wolf enough time to realize he had heard her voice before but somewhere undefinable. Somewhere beyond that cloud that still plagued his mind.

“Oh and uh… I’ve been told two of our prisoners have escaped their cell. Whoever gets ‘em back under lock an’ key gets a reward from the Captain’s trove. Shoot ‘em dead and you’re out the airlock,” Dreadfang continued. And then the transmission crackled into silence.

“Ye heard ‘er,” the tiger turned to the subordinates, who began scrambling to get everything ready. “Double time or this shit’ll be sliding errywhere when we warp.”

“What now?” Fox whispered, looking back at Wolf with wide green eyes. “I don’t think they’re gonna leave until it’s too late.”

“We have to get to our ships,” Wolf said numbly. “And fast.”

_Shoot the chain and run for the elevator. That’s the only option we have. Fuck. They’ll shoot us in the back before the doors even close. We’re screwed._

“I’ve got an idea,” Fox said urgently, though was careful to keep quiet. “Lure them over here. When they’re close, we’ll shove the crates.”

The words ‘you’re insane’ almost came out of Wolf’s mouth but tossing another glance at the stack of crates and Wolf realized the vulpine was on to something. And this was sure as hell of a better idea than running for it. With a growl boiling in the back of his throat, Wolf nodded to Fox and peered around the crates at the pirates. The tiger was directing one brigand to push a crate towards the opposite wall, their backs turned. Wolf gave a low whistle in their direction before decking behind the crates, resting his back against them.

“Eh?” a rugged voice could be heard.

“What’re you lookin’ at?” the tiger grunted.

“Didja hear that?” the first voice asked.

“Hear what?” the tiger asked.

“I think I heard it too,” another voice chimed in.

“I thought you was whistlin’,” someone accused.

“Me? Nah, mate, that wunn’t,” came more chatter.

“Shut up!” the tiger snarled. “Listen!”

Wolf side-eyed where Fox was sneaking a peak at the pirates, keeping low. His nerves were evident, fur standing on end. Wolf’s ears swiveled as he listened to footsteps drawing close to their hiding spot—but not close enough. He exhaled softly, puckering his lips carefully and giving another whistle to get their attention. And then the footsteps drew closer, a myriad of them. He heard the sound of a blaster click into fire mode, fear prickling through his limbs.

Fox tugged on the chain gently, signaling Wolf to back up with the wave of his hand. Wolf did so carefully, moving to where he could see the tip of one of the pirate’s ear over the crate. A few steps back gave them enough room for their charge into the crates but Wolf still feared their combined might would not be enough. He held his blaster close to his chest, looking at Fox for the sign to charge.

It came when the tiger passed by. Standing a head taller than his subordinates, his face was clearly visible over the top of a smaller stack of crates. His eyes cut to Wolf for a split second, widening in surprise.

“Now!” Fox yelled and the two charged at the crates, slamming their shoulders into one of the lower ones.

Much to Wolf’s fear, the stack of crates swayed but not enough to fall. He slammed his shoulder into it a second time, a prayer upon his breath and desperation screaming in his mind. When they gave way, there was relief but that was soon replaced by fear. The elevator! He began bounding towards it, blaster in one hand and chain in the other. Fox was hot on his heels. The crates toppled in a deafening roar behind them, silencing screeches of horror. But the elevator was the only thing Wolf cared about, his strides outmatching Fox’s to the point where their chain grew taut. He yanked on it as he crossed the threshold, looking back in time to see the vulpine come barreling into him. Wolf’s back slammed into the elevator and the doors soon closed, but not before the grey-furred merc caught a glimpse of the tiger trying to claw his way out from under a crate with an agonized yell.

Wolf took a glance at the elevator buttons, the distinct lack of signs on them no help in determining which way they needed to go. He growled and hit the button for the next floor up. A guess just as good as any other.

“S-sorry,” Fox stammered as he backed up to give Wolf room.

“Guess I’m faster than you,” Wolf remarked. “Back up another step.”

Fox obeyed but not without throwing Wolf an apprehensive look. Without warning, Wolf pointed the blaster at the chain, a hopeful inhale sucked through his nostrils. He pulled the trigger, the laser cutting through the chain and melting it. The chain fell into two pieces, dragging from their shackles. It was still long enough so that it nearly scraped the ground but at least they were somewhat free of each other.

“Let’s hope if the hanger’s this way, our ships are there,” Fox said.

“If they’re not, we’re screwed,” Wolf replied.

The elevator door dinged and he readied his gun, stepping to the side so he was slightly concealed by the elevator. Fox did the same on the opposite side, his hands balled into tiny, terrified fists. Wolf’s mouth crinkled into a smug smirk for a half-second and then the doors began to open, their pace painfully slow. With a creak and a slam did they finally finish the process and when Wolf looked into the next room he was elated to discover that his guess had been correct…

… And yet horrified of what he saw within.

The hanger was a long stretching room, bustling with activity and filled with small starfighters of all sorts of shapes and builds. Their structures reminded him of Venom’s fighters in the early days—unrefined fighters with still ample flight testing left to do. They were scrap metal welded together with wings, unpainted and crude. Which is what made the Arwing and the Wolfen stand out all the more.

They were sat next to each other in the middle of the hanger, under watchful eye by several pirates. But at a glance, Wolf could see the pirates were unarmed. Instead, they were donned with goggles, vests with tools, and accompanied by robots that were hacking away at the starfighters with saws. And just as that realization washed over him, one of the Wolfen’s thin wings fell to the ground.

“That’s my ship, you _fucks_!” Wolf roared with adrenaline and an unholy fury in his veins.

The next few seconds were a blur, Fox’s voice a terrified scream behind him. Wolf sprinted, paces long and footsteps loud. His clawed hand found one’s scarf, hoisting him upright and pinning him to the Wolfen’s hull. As he did, his violet eye swiveled to where they had already taken off the cockpit’s protective glass and several metallic panels making up its hull. His grip around the pirate’s scarf tightened and he slammed the unfortunate man’s head into the ship with a snarl. The pirate went limp and Wolf dropped him. The hanger lights flashed red and the alarm began, an angered wail that ran deep into his shaking arms. 

He did not need to inspect the Wolfen any longer—it was trashed at this point, unflyable. The Arwing was no different; its wings had been dismantled and its cannons were sitting on the ground next to it. It made a sickening amount of sense; these were two of the best crafts in recorded history. Of course a bunch of lowlife bandits would want to pilfer what they could off of them. Fur bristling all down his nap, Wolf began opening fire at the pirates, who were starting to collect themselves and fight back. Red lasers flashed in his peripherals and his rage sent a flurry of shots back, fangs bared. He pressed his back to the broken Wolfen’s hull as lights danced around him, echoed by angry pirate shouts.

“Wolf!” Fox yelled, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the sound of gunshots. “We… we gotta go!”

“Our ships are shot,” Wolf said between clenched teeth as he returned fire then ducked back behind the safety of the Wolfen.

“We’ll have to take one of the pirate’s ships!” Fox exclaimed. “I saw a two-seater near the elevator. Let’s grab it and go!”

Wolf grunted, “I’ll cover you.”

The duo began back towards the elevator. Without the entire cover of the Arwing and Wolfen, they were more exposed so Wolf urged Fox along quickly. He popped off a few shots, weaving as Fox ran towards the ship in question.

“The entrance to the hanger’s open,” Fox shouted over his shoulder. “I saw some fighting out there. I think it’s your team!”

“Told ya,” Wolf commented.

A shot razed the very top of his jacket, burning through the leather and nothing more. As he fired back, he snuck another look at his Wolfen. He could not fathom he would ever be able to commission a ship as worthy as the one Andross had given him. Not with their little funds. Not without fulfilling that contract. But damn it all, was it worth his life? Another shot came eerily close to his head and Wolf quickly discarded that thought. Damn this mission and damn these pirates. He would be content to never see them again. As he backpedaled towards their hopeful escape craft, Wolf tossed a glance back to the russet vulpine as Fox made his approach, but it was the chime of the elevator doors that caught his attention.

The doors opened and the brawny tiger from before stumbled out, blood on his lower lip and feral wrath in his slit eyes. He looked to Wolf then he looked to Fox, drawing a stout looking stun gun and promptly firing it at the vulpine. Blue electricity wrapped around Fox as he screamed, falling to the ground just shy of the ship’s hull. 

“You…” the tiger sneered, blood laced in his gums amid his pearly white fangs. “…will regret stepping out of that cell.”

“Make me, punk,” Wolf sneered in return.

No warning at all, the tiger lifted and fired a shot from his stun gun at Wolf. The canine ducked and returned fire, the brawny pirate dodging. Behind, he could hear the pirates moving up, emboldened by their superior’s appearance. A nearby barrel of fuel sat next to the two-seater and Wolf kicked it over, rolling it towards the pirates and firing a single shot to ignite it. The fuel ebbed out from a slot atop the barrel, leaking all over the floor with the fire soon consuming it. Another alarm began sounding out and there were more shouts from the pirates, this time out of terror.

_That’ll keep ‘em busy._

The tiger was the only one he had to worry about now and the feline was quick to charge forward. Wolf lunged to the right. Heartbeat in his ears, he fired at the tiger as the fire-furred feline went to shoot again. The laser caught the top of the tiger’s blaster, sending it flying. The next shot came at the tiger’s shoulder, a glancing blow. Wolf aimed the next for the tiger’s head but a knife came flying in his direction before he could fire. The canine dodged, the knife slicing only air.

The alarms cut off suddenly, leaving a strange, void-like silence in their absence. Over the speakers, a robotic voice chimed.

“ENTERING WARP ZONE. ALL UNITS BRACE FOR IMPACT.”

_No!_

“You’re too late!” the tiger declared in the split-second before all hell broke loose. At once everything shook as though the ship were experiencing an earthquake. It was hard to keep steady but Wolf knew he had to. If he could just end this guy, he could grab Fox and run for the double-seater.

Thundering footsteps told him the tiger was charging once more. Wolf peeled back his gun to dash it across the feline’s face but he was too slow. The hulking tiger collided into him, the gun careening out Wolf’s hand. A fist met his snout and the metallic taste of blood instantly filled his mouth. Slamming into the ground reignited the fire that was the Viper’s burn mark on his chest. Wolf gasped for air, his world going distorted. A few fervent blinks won victory over the delirium and pain, vision focusing in time to see the tiger pull his hand back for another punch. It came and the world was a mess of colors, each hue bleeding into each other. Pinks. Purples. Blues. Yellows. Like a painter’s palette had spilled all over his vision. The third punch came and Wolf felt himself falling further into the pooling colors. They gave way to a darkness that pulled him in. 

* * *

**The present; Sector Omega --**

When Falco Lombardi dropped off their communications channel, all hell broke loose. Slippy screamed, his voice the epitome of grief and horror. Leon’s radar bleeped that the avian’s ship was spiraling out of control somewhere below the _Anarchy_ but that was something the chameleon could not concern himself with at the moment. A large nebulous portal had opened in front of the pirate’s vessel, colored a pale magenta with a heart made of sheer darkness. The _Anarchy_ was not content to wait for its hulking form to casually drift through either. As soon as the portal had solidified, the vessel’s thrusters were activated and it began soaring towards it.

“Hey I thought we still had time before they could fire another portal? Ding dong, y’all were wrong,” Pigma remarked.

“No… no, our calculations were correct!” Andrew yelled. “How could they… they should still be… Ugh, this doesn’t make any _sense!_ ”

The pirates in their fighter planes began to circle back towards their mothership, abandoning the fight. Leon burned two more to a crisp, heart racing and fear burning wildly in his arms. They were losing this battle and they were losing it badly. A few seconds and the pirates would be out of reach. 

“Shoot it!” Peppy yelled desperately.

Inhaling a deep but quiet breath, Leon switched his communications to private and opened his channel only to Andrew. As soon as the simian’s distraught face appeared on-screen, Leon felt his heart sink. It looked like even their tactical whiz was running out of ideas. 

“Andrew,” Leon began. “Cover me, I’m going for the hanger.”

“G-got it…” Andrew said uneasily. “Just… make sure you don’t get yourself killed okay?! Don’t leave me here with Pigma.”

“I will do my best,” Leon vowed, moving his Wolfen so that it was aligned with the hanger. 

As the _Anarchy_ neared the portal, Leon could see the hanger doors were starting to close. He slammed his ship forward, pressing hard on the accelerate. The Wolfen built speed gradually. Leon kept its nose steady, aiming for the hanger. Beyond the forcefield protecting the pirates inside from getting sucked into space, he could see a warm light. It grew, sparking bigger until it seemed like an inferno lay for him. His heart leapt.

Wolf. It had to be.

Leon’s ship was a shooting star across Sector Omega, the front half of the _Anarchy_ dipping into the enigmatic portal and the back half with the hanger still wide open for him. There were a thousand thoughts that flew across his mind. Hope and fear ran through him so strong that it was paralyzing. All he could do was grip the controls of his Wolfen and watch as the _Anarchy_ steadily slipped through the portal and the hanger grew ever closer, that gap into its fiery depths ever narrowing.

There was a part of him he knew he would not make it. The hanger doors were not even closed when the _Anarchy_ passed wholly into the portal, which closed at once behind it. Leon’s ship hurtled into nothing and in sheer disbelief, the lizard released his hold on the controls. A breathlessness overcame him, carnelian eyes staring at where the _Anarchy_ had once been and where it was gone, inexplicably, taking Wolf with it. 

To say he felt despair was an understatement. Replaying those last few moments over and over in his mind, he could not fathom what had just happened. He could not fathom how they had lost Wolf not once but twice now. His emotions boiled and frothed in his chest but somehow instead of overflowing, they withered away until there was only a hollow feeling left. Only emptiness as Leon’s Wolfen cruised to a halt and all he could do was breathe and try to understand how this had all gone so wrong. 

“ROB, we need back up! Falco’s Arwing is busted really, really bad! Move the Great Fox over here and get medical supplies ready!” Slippy’s voice was yelling through his mic but Leon did not care to listen to it. He did not care to hear anything. One shaking finger moved to his communications, turning them off.

The silence of space was an unwelcoming, heavy sound. Leon leaned back, head against his chair and closed his eyes. He had not been enough twice now and that feeling was a bitter, horrible taste on his tongue. The lizard unfortunately was not given much time to reflect in his silence before a beep on his Wolfen’s dashboard signaled that someone was trying to get in touch with him. Begrudgingly, he accepted the transmission and Andrew’s face came into view.

“Leon! Are you ok—” Andrew began.

“No,” Leon cut him off sharply. “Andrew… How did they have enough energy to shoot the portal?”

“I… I don’t know,” Andrew admitted. “But Star Fox is wanting to regroup at the Great Fox. Are we gonna… are we gonna join them?”

_No._

Leon sucked in a breath, massaging his forehead.

“We will join them…” the chameleon replied sourly. “… But be on your guard. I do not foresee this peace treaty lasting much longer.”

“A-all right,” Andrew nodded. “See you back on board.”

And then blissful silence once more, but Leon could not find it in himself to enjoy it. Instead, he lazily piloted the Wolfen back towards where the Great Fox was. His mind replayed the last 24 hours, trying to find what he should have done differently. How he could have been enough. How he could have saved Wolf.

* * *

**A few days ago; the Nighthowl, adrift in the Lylat System --**

_The recording Pigma sat on their lounge table beamed to life with the face of a slender gazelle. Wolf wasn’t one to value such superficial things like beauty, but he found himself admiring her silently. She was crafted like a supermodel—curves accentuated by her attire and hair springing from between her horns in a delicate cascade. Her eyes were sharp, though, like needles that could pierce through the thickest armor._

“ _Greetings, esteemed Star Wolf team. It has been some time since we have had any dealings together—although I suppose Pigma handled the transaction last time. I am Savanna Grant, vice-president of Lionheart Corps. My superior is still quite pleased that you managed to purge Eladard of Archie’s influence two years ago. I had hoped you would like to continue our partnership—perhaps even elevating it to new heights. We of Lionheart Corps are finding ourselves in need of hired guns. Guns that we know can handle… precarious jobs,” the gazelle said crisply._

_“Who?” Andrew wrinkled his nose and Pigma shushed him. Wolf was inwardly glad this was a recording and not a live broadcast._

_“A few days ago, we received troubling news of a security breach within our Macbethian facility. Our head scientist, Gregario Reede, has pocketed some company assets and plans to sell them off to a buyer who is known on the black market as Mr. B. Mr. B has hired an escort to deliver Gregario to him safely. However, we really need Gregario to… **not** arrive safely, if you understand my meaning,” Savanna continued. “Proof of his elimination and the return of the stolen assets will net you two million credits with the guarantee of our business in the near future. Please respond with your agreement or refusal as soon as you are able. Time is ticking, Star Wolf.”_

_“No details on the escort,” Leon pointed out sourly as soon as the hologram of Savanna disappeared. “I do not like this.”_

_“Two MILLION,” Andrew gushed. “We have to accept it, Wolf. We **have** to.”_

_“You just want pizza,” Wolf scowled at him._

_“I mean, it could be enough to fund an upgrade to…well, everything! The Nighthowl, the Wolfens… We could even start working on an actual headquarters. Like you talked about!” Andrew pointed out and Wolf sighed._

_“Pigma, you’re the one who brought this. What d’you think?” Wolf asked._

_The hog grinned from ear-to-ear. “Savanna’s always good for her word. We’d be dumb to turn her down. Two million for easy-peasy assassination and grabbin’ some goods? Ha!”_

_“I want to know more about the escort,” Leon said brusquely. “But I will not… say no to two million credits. We are in need of funds desperately.”_

_“Cautious as ever,” Wolf grinned at him. “But really, Leon. What’s the worst that could happen?”_

* * *

**The present; The Anarchy Hanger, the Anarchy, in Warp Zone --**

_Gregario Reede._

The name played over in Wolf’s mind as he slowly drifted back into consciousness. His violet eye drew upwards at where the tiger was still on top of him—gloating over his victory with a snarl-ridden laugh. The world was still a haze but he could hear the tiger haughtily talking, his words muddled by the delirium buzzing about Wolf’s mind. 

“Oh she’s told me all about you… you killed… and she was left… but you didn’t… what a damn mistake… and then they set it on fire… Thought you’d seen the last of… but that’s karma for ya, O’Donnell!” the tiger declared with a savage smile.

His speech was cut off by a single blaster shot ringing out. The feline fell onto his side with a yell and Wolf looked over to see Fox holding the tiger’s stun gun. Fox was bent over slightly, looking pained as he lowered the gun and jogged over to Wolf. The vulpine reached down to offer Wolf a hand, which was gladly accepted. Wolf gathered his feet beneath him and lifted his hand to his snout. Warm blood oozed from his nostrils. Ugh, the tiger had gotten him good.

“Let’s go!” Fox urged him.

The backdrop of the hanger was a growing blaze of fire, the emergency systems of the ship having kicked in. Water rained down from some spouts, drenching Wolf and Fox as they sprinted towards the two-seater. Fox was about to start scrambling into the cockpit when something caught Wolf’s eye. The hanger door was closed and through the glass window, he could only see a pink and purple haze.

“Uh… McCloud?” Wolf began.

“Yeah?” Fox asked.

“I think we’re screwed.”

Fox paused and looked towards the hanger doors. Time froze in that moment as the two of them realized what had happened during the scrap with the tiger. They had missed their chance. The _Anarchy_ was in warp drive and they were in the middle of a dimension between dimensions. Getting off now, they would only be lost in a current with no way to get back to where they belonged. Doomed to wander another dimension for all eternity until starvation killed them. A horrible way to die. Far worse than being shot to death by pirates or Mr. B or Dreadfang or whoever else wanted them dead.

The vulpine’s mouth opened and Wolf was hopeful he had a trick up his sleeve.

“Oh,” was all Fox McCloud said, his ears back. “W-what do we do now?”

Wolf cast a glance about the hanger, which was in a very evident state of disarray as pirates were struggling to put out the fire. They could not leave but they could not stay. Not in the hanger at least. 

“If we can’t leave the ship, we do the next best thing,” Wolf said, hobbling over to his discarded blaster and picking it up. “We take it over.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading as usual. 
> 
> Much like some of my other fics, I first drew up concepts for this story with the idea that it would be a short fic. However, by the time I did start writing it, I realized that the tale I wanted to tell would end up being longer. Probably the longest fic I have written so far for Star Fox. That is still very much the case. I have mentally broken down this fic into 3 segments. This would be the conclusion of the first segment, which will very likely be the shortest segment. I am sure a lot of people suspected that Fox and Wolf would make it off the ship so I hope them failing comes as a pleasant surprise. There's still a lot more they have to uncover and we'll see more mysteries being solved very soon. Until the next update. o/


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